All The Stars In The Sky
by unbidden16
Summary: Samantha Jane Witwicky was always known as the pretty girl. She hoped one day to be something more, to get beyond a frightening encounter of her past. She wanted a miracle, but never expected visitors from heaven. 2007 Movie-Based. Be ready for a spin.
1. Chapter 1: The Deal

**Chapter One: The Deal**

The day was warm. The sun was out most of the time, with only an occasional streaky cloud getting in the way of it. Today was no day to be in school. It was a day to be spent outside swimming, tanning, or playing volleyball, not taking an Algebra test.

As it was, Samantha was currently occupied and less than thrilled.

Mrs. Ferrenforn sat in the front of the room. Her worn gold rimmed glasses sat at the end of her nose. She looked over them mockingly every so often to install a twinge of fear into them. To the dismay of Mrs. Ferrenforn, better known as the creature teacher, Miss Samantha Witwicky was sitting in her seat smiling.

Sam was a rather determined student, aimed on getting an A in every class this semester. There was a good three more minutes before the end-of-school-day-bell would ring and she was on her last problem. Poor Henry next to her kept mumbling under his breath, "I only got to number four."

This last problem however gave her much trouble. It was one of those know-nothing questions asking, "If one train is leaving Boston at eight-hundred hours going at a speed of thirty miles per hour and another train is leaving at nine-hundred hours from Chicago going at sixty miles per hour, how far is the ice-cream shop from the point at which they will collide," or something along those lines. She had never been one much in favor of mathematics coinciding with English in the form of worded equations over-top of simplest numeric equations.

It took every second of those three minutes to finish that problem. In the end, the answer looked wrong, but it didn't matter. The test consisted of fifty questions and one four point question wasn't going to keep her from getting that A she so desired.

The instant her pencil tip lifted off of the mark circling the answer she had come to the bell rang. Mrs. Ferrenforn stood up. Her knotted red hair was up in a bun. An ancient looking dress with a bold floral print lay across most of her body, along with worn out clogs on her feet.

"That's it. Pencils down." The 'creature teacher's', as she was so fondly called behind her back, voice was loud and stern. "Come forward in a single file line and I will grade your papers."

Most of the students scowled, moaned and groaned. There were a total of eight kids in the ninth period class. As it turned out Sam was the last in line. It took all her spare energy to get poor, poor Henry out of his chair. He really did only make it to question four and as it looked what he _had_ finished he got wrong. She fought between the urge to laugh outright or pat her classmate's back in sympathy.

By the time he had reached the teacher's desk, his head was practically dragging across the floor. Mrs. Ferrenforn looked up over her spectacles and sighed. "Unimpressive, Mister Watson. I fail to see how you can pass this year if you do not study."

"I'm sorry Mrs. Ferrenforn." His black hair was gelled to a few dozen points on the top of his head which Sam personally found quite attractive in a man. Short hair was always a turn-on with her. Unfortunately brains also mattered to her and Henry wasn't exactly the sharpest tool in the box. His current test was a prime example of that fact.

"Go Mister Watson. I expect the next test to be at least a sixty-five."

"Yes Mrs. Ferrenforn." Henry left, feet dragging against the floor in a resigned way that was oh-so common throughout high-school. Sam watched after him, shaking her head. The faint murmur that reached her from the door made her chuckle, though she was certain that she was not meant to hear the self-depreciation from her fellow sophomore. "I can't believe I only got to problem number four."

Mrs. Ferrenforn coughed in a way that demanded attention be brought to her from behind her wooden desk. Samantha turned immediately. The teacher grinned almost maniacally. "I'm sorry if I'm keeping you from something Miss Witwicky."

Samantha smiled wickedly. In a sarcastic tone she stated, "Apologies accepted Mrs. Ferrenforn." She let her test booklet and answer sheet fall onto the woman's desk. She had often taken to mocking the teacher when nobody else was around in order to get the idea across to the elder woman that she was not incompetent. She couldn't help but think that her teacher secretly liked getting along with her students. Sam was one of the few that never referred to the spectacle wearing woman as the 'creature teacher'. For an institutional employee she wasn't half bad.

The woman huffed as if she were truly insulted, which she knew she wasn't, and scanned over the answer sheet comparing the correct answers logged on a separate sheet to her student's. When she was finished, she pulled out a red pen and wrote down the numbers nine and three on the top of the page and circled it. She then put the papers on the stack of others and smiled sincerely at her pupil.

"Very well done, Miss Witwicky. You have gotten the highest score on that test out of all my students."

Sam smiled smugly. "Thank you Mrs. Ferrenforn." Sam pulled a twice folded piece of paper out of her side bag and handed it to her teacher. "Now for your part of the bargain. I promised to get an A in this class along with all of the others for every single homework, quiz, test, and exam in exchange for your signature as well as that of my other teachers to ensure to my father that I did so."

"Very well, Miss Witwicky." The teacher signed and dated the sheet of paper willingly. When she had finished, she handed the paper back to Samantha. "I wish you luck with your father. Enjoy summer break."

With that, Sam darted out of the classroom. She ran down the halls, the three stairwells, and out the front door. She didn't get far, though. At the base of Jefferson High's stoop sat the captain of the baseball team. Jeremy Foxx was one of the school's hottest guys and the current fan of Samantha Witwicky. Hell, how many guys at her school weren't?

As she hurried to hop onto her blue Moped, Jeremy grabbed hold of her arm. "Well, hi there. I wasn't expecting to see you here."

Sam smiled and patted him on the cheek, then pinched it…_hard_. He bent over in a sad attempt to reduce the pull on his skin. Apparently the elasticity there only went so far. She'd have to remember that for anatomy class next year. She let go of his cheek and began to put her helmet on.

"You think of that yourself did ya?" She inquired with a smirk, her tone coquettish. She wasn't a flirt normally, but she did so love pulling on Jeremy's strings. The damned prick deserved it after the way he dumped her best friend after screwing her in the back seat of his truck. True it was partially Miley's fault for letting herself get suckered into going down on the jock, but the ass didn't have to just push her out of his truck once he had reached his orgasm to walk the three miles in the dark at night back to her home.

Before he could have the opportunity to answer her Sam was on her way. She looked back once to see the other jocks punching his arm jokingly, obviously ribbing him for missing his shot at her once again. With a single-digit salute to the jocks, a gesture that would very well have had her grandmother boxing her ears, Sam turned back to the road before her to head home.

Samantha navigated her way through the streets of her childhood easily. The homes she passed were the same as when she first rode a tricycle. The yards were a pure green, cars sparkling clean, and homes at the peak of efficiency. She lived in one of the more gated communities in Tranquility thanks to her father's online business, though they were a far-cry from being truly rich. They were more upper-middle class than anything.

A mere two driveways away from her home she stopped and looked around. Nothing ever changed. She'd grown up with the same people, never really getting to meet anyone new. Tranquility was no sleepy little town, but it was also no metropolis. It seemed that once you settled down in Tranquility you didn't leave.

To herself she thought, _One day. One day I'll find adventure and get out of this bore hole. Heck, maybe I'll sign up for the foreign exchange program next year instead of taking my advanced courses._ Preceding that thought, she started her Moped back up and turned into her driveway. Her father's Ford S-Max sat in the driveway, collecting dust.

Knowing there would be no rain Sam leaned her Moped against the garage door and walked up the pathway to her red front door. She knew better than to step on the grass. It wasn't grown there naturally. It was artificial turf bought special and shipped in, therefore highly expensive. She wasn't permitted to walk on the grass like most people. She'd joked with her father more than once that he should just give it up and buy a 'KEEP OFF THE GRASS' sign and be done with it. The house was a two story white colonial in excellent condition. The yard and house itself were immaculate thanks to her weekend chore of 'exterior home maintenance'.

As she unlocked the front door, she yelled out for her father, Ronald. "Hey Daddy, I'm home." She let her bag fall to the floor except for her signed slip. All of her teachers had signed the sheet and she was eager to show her father what she had accomplished.

An aging deep voice came from the family room. "I'm in here, angel."

Samantha hurried into the living room from the front hall to find her father sitting on the sofa with his laptop on the coffee table before him beside a glass of scotch. She had to smirk a little at the sight of the liquor. Both her parents loved their booze. If her mother were here and not out visiting her sister in Denver then she would have the matching glass at her side as she skimmed through the latest issue of _Home and Garden_.

"Hi Daddy." She kissed his cheek as she sat beside him to look at the screen. He was checking out his current price charts and marking the various turns in profit. She'd seen him do this before, even helped him with it when he'd burned his hands trying to lift a recently baked lasagna pan off of the counter to bring to the dining table a year ago.

"Hello, angel." Ron beamed widely as he turned his head to kiss his daughter's temple. She was a total daddy's girl and she knew it.

She looked at her father closely. He was an average looking man with nearly shaggy brown hair and chestnut colored eyes. His lips were thin over-top of a square chin. He had not let age fatten him up like some men, though is six-pack was no longer prevalent upon his form. She'd seen pictures of him in his youth and couldn't deny that her father had been a handsome man. He still was, but in more of a subdued manned. He fit the bill of a parent and businessman. She had inherited her straight nose from him. The rest she got from her mother.

Judith, otherwise known as Judy, Witwicky was a strawberry blonde woman with a tall frame and daring curves. She was pleasantly round, not entirely muscular, but by no terms chubby. Her mother always wore her curly shoulder-length hair down and dressed in matron-wear. She tried to get her mother to dress-up more because the older woman was undeniably beautiful when she did, but Judy wouldn't hear of it unless she and her husband were going out for a special event. Judy never looked old, but she certainly didn't like to emphasize her beauty.

That did not mean, however, that Samantha was permitted to do the same. Oh no, Judy took pride in her daughter's exotic beauty. Sam had taken much from her mother; her five-foot-eight inch frame, flaring hips and bust, golden skin, and full, naturally parted coral pink lips. She was athletic and only faintly rounded, the muscle aplenty beneath her very thin layer of deceiving fat. She had also inherited her long, golden locks and lavender eyes from her great grandmother. People often swore that depending upon her mood that her eyes would either be more red or blue than lavender. Judy also made sure that her daughter wore appropriate attire for a growing young woman, dress-pants, skirts, and fancy blouses. They had a running deal that three times a week, unless required otherwise, that Sam would wear her mother's 'proper young lady clothes' while at all other times she would wear her own choice in clothes. Sam favored her bell jeans, peasant tops, and sandals over anything.

Samantha had known since a very early age when her mother forced her to enter beauty contests that she was attractive, verging on sexy as she grew older and filled out properly. She did gymnastics and dance for recreation and that was an apparent turn-on for guys. She couldn't count how many dances she'd been invited to since middle school and how often she stopped by the dance studio in downtown to practice.

"So, have you got something for me?" Ron asked even as he continued to peruse his charts marking them up.

"Of course." She flicked the signed sheet of paper open and set it down onto his keyboard. After a second more of observation he set to work staring down the sheet as if looking for forgery or similarities in pressure or style to indicate that she had committed fraud. She leaned in with a smirk on her lips even as her father's twitched slightly to contain his grin. "So…am I grounded?" She giggled.

Ron took her into a one-armed hug and kissed her temple once more. "No, Sam, you're not ground this time." He chuckled.

"_This_ time? Are you saying that you expect me to make you ground me another time?" She elbowed him gently before pulling away. "Are you going to stick to your side of our deal?" She demanded of her father, her eyes stern. He sent back a half-hearted glare.

"Don't start with me, Samantha Jane." _Ooh, middle name. Not good._ She averted her eyes to her lap in submission knowing that she'd pushed her father too far by insulting his honor. If anything, Ronald Witwicky was a man of his word. One didn't question that. "These grades must be maintained. Any slips and your keys will be confiscated and you're going back to your Moped or hitching a ride with one of your friends. Is that understood?"

"Yes sir." She assured him while keeping her head down.

"All repairs, gas, and insurance is yours to take care of as well. You will also have your phone on you at all times. I will not risk my little angel getting stuck anywhere. I also want you to promise me that you will be responsible and safe."

"I will. I promise."

"Then," Ron began once more and she could hear the smile in his voice, "by the power invested in me as your father and man of this house, I give you full permission to buy your car."

Sam squealed with delight before practically pouncing on her father to give him an outrageous hug. She kissed his cheek three times before sitting back to watch his laughing face.

"Thank you Daddy!"

"I'm going with you, though. I want you in something that won't break apart on you in the next few years." She nodded quickly. With a sigh her father turned back to his laptop screen and waved her off. "Go on and meet up with Miley. I know that you're itching to spill the news."

"Thank you!" She repeated before dashing off to her Moped once more to head to the dance studio where she cleaned and assisted in teaching. Miley worked there as well with the little girls wanting to be ballerinas. She didn't work this particular day, but her little sister Stacy had lessons from three until four. She'd be there.

* * *

Samantha strode joyfully into the dance studio minutes later. Miley knew instantly by the smug look on her best friend's face that she had been approved her car. Mily darted up from the two-story bleachers to run and embrace her friend. Sam hugged her back wholeheartedly, all but jumping with glee.

"You got the green-to-go, right?" Miley inquired with a Cheshire cat grin as they pulled apart. "I'm not mistaking that look for good sex, am I?"

"Miley!" Sam hissed, slapping her best friend's shoulder. Miley had never been one to censor herself. Sam snuck a glance to the girls tap dancing, oblivious to what the older girl had just said, before dragging her back to the bleachers farther away from the group but still within sight. They sat and Sam scowled at her pre-school best friend. "You know I don't do that."

"I don't know why not!" Miley groaned in exasperation. "You can have any guy you want and you still shoot them all down. I mean, jeeze, you haven't even had a committed relationship before."

"You know _why_ I don't go for guys, though." Sam accused, her arms crossed, all joy at being approved for her car having washed away. Miley raised her hands in surrender.

"I know. I know. I get it." She shook her head slowly, almost sadly. "That prick shouldn't have done that to you. I mean now you can't even enjoy a good make-out session like a normal seventeen year old thanks to him."

Images of that night flashed back in her mind. She'd been at a party with her cousins when she was fourteen with the other tweens in the main house watching a movie while the older kids partied in the pool house. A few times people would come into the main house to get more food or drinks, usually alcohol. Most of them had been plastered. Thanks to her 'prettiness' Sam had been ogled even at that age. She'd gone to the bathroom at one point only to be jumped by one of the party guests, a twenty-three year old that was drunk off of his rocker. He'd nearly raped her. If it hadn't been for a fellow tween, Michael Banes, she'd have lost her virginity instead of just acquiring a notch in her left ear.

She still liked guys, could even have them touch her now, but she couldn't handle anything sexual anymore. She'd managed pecks on the cheek or forehead to boys that she was close to, her father included, but even hugs were out of her control. She got panic attacks when a guy embraced her no matter how close they were to her. She could hug them, but the second they hugged back she felt trapped. Her father, after a year or so of working at it, had managed to get her to tolerate a one-armed hug.

"You know, I think Mike likes you."

Sam rolled her eyes. She didn't think. She knew. Mike had always been a good guy. She'd even given him one or two kisses on the cheek in the past, but he was still a jock. He was still a heck of a lot stronger than she was. She didn't trust men and Mike was well on his way to being one. She wasn't going to risk herself to a night of drinking.

"So?" She shot back.

"Come on." Miley grumbled, her auburn hair tumbling in front of her face. "Can't you at least give him a try? He really is a sweet guy."

Sam remained silent, keeping a vigil on the tap dancing girls.

In her mind Samantha was recalling the image of Mike. He was a big boy, just over six feet tall already and muscle-packed. He was a tanned boy with baby blue eyes and spiky coal black hair. Many a high school girl had a wet dream about Michael. He was an interesting, perfect mix of Channing Tatum and Brad Pitt. Simply put Mike was considered sex on a stick.

The unfortunate downside to this whole shtick is that though Mike was undoubtedly gorgeous and kind-hearted, he was also a first class man-whore. That's right. Mike was known for picking a girl up, having her falling head over heels for him, and then gently letting her down after she'd given up everything to him that she wasn't the _one_.

Samantha had little doubt that she'd discover that she wasn't the one either.

So she stayed away from the tender, delicious, and perfectly stunning boy that had rescued her from a horrible situation so long ago.

"I know that." She mumbled into the open air after a long few minutes. With a sigh Sam swept her hand over her face before turning to Miley once more. "So, where are we going for our first road trip in _my_ car?"

* * *

**Note:** This is my version of the 2007 Transformers film. I just always liked the idea of Sam as a girl and decided to go for it. I'd appreciate reviews. There will be quite a few similarities to the film in my story, but I'm also adding bits to go along with additional outside pieces that I've written that will come after this. This story shouldn't be very long since it's somewhat movie based and I hate repeating everything.

**_Be aware that in the first several chapters that Sam's character is slightly Mary Sue. It will improve in later chapters as she reveals her smartaleck side._**

Please if you like this review. It'll be finished regardless, somewhere between ten and fifteen chapters only. Then I'll put in the placement pieces that come between the two movies and the related two books I've written.

I appreciate any commentary, just so long as you aren't volgar in your language. (Don't cuss me out. If you have a complaint I will take it in stride, I just don't want you cursing at me.)

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Transformers or anything in relationship to it. I only lay claim to my spin and ideas formed into this story.


	2. Chapter 2: A Camaro is a Camaro

**Chapter Two: A Camaro is a Camaro**

Sam stood beside her father outside of the main building of the car dealership. She really couldn't believe her rotten luck. She'd been working her ass off to earn what money she had and her father had the nerve to bring her to this rat hole instead of the dealership across town where she had already seen a Dodge Neon in her price range and in good condition. It wasn't like she hadn't mentioned it to him before. No, he just wanted to torture her, she was convinced of that.

The man that walked out of the battered building was not an attractive man by any means, either by looks or by the feelings he was giving off. The first words that Sam could equate to this man in her mind were 'sleaze-ball' and 'suck-ass'. He had dirty deep brown skin that made him look like he rolled around in motor oil only a few minutes before and wore tacky tropical tourist clothes. His tan and slightly dirtied hat sat upon his head crookedly.

"How are you folks today?" The man asked in a raspy, accented voice. Sam fought the urge to roll her eyes at the usual dealership-man cheeriness.

"Fine, fine." Her father assured him, a hard smile on his lips. "We're here looking for my daughter's first car."

"Even though I already had one in mind." She snorted out, turning her head away from the two men. Out of the corner of her eyes she caught her father sending her a look, but she didn't care. She wasn't buying one of these crap cars under any circumstances. She wasn't going to look like her Aunt Maude who drove a literally shit-smeared Gremlin.

_Nope, not going to happen._

"First car 'eh?" The black man inquired with a nasty smile. He reached out his hand to shake her father's. "Name's Bobby Bolivia. You can call me Uncle Bobby B. It'd be my pleasure to help you today." When her father smiled back Sam laughed out loud, shook her head, and stalked off. If she had to look around the lot of shit cars she wasn't about to do it with her father and a conniving salesman trailing her.

With a groan she circled the car lot. All of the cars were deserving of a junk yard for a permanent retirement. Some of them looked like they didn't even have a single piece in them anywhere that could be salvaged. They were all dirty, covered in mounds of dust. It was nearly comedic because some of the cars had stickers on them proclaiming them to be 'clean' or 'just like new'.

Her heels clicked on the uneven concrete lot as she trailed her fingers mindlessly over the dust covered vehicles. She really only took time to stand still and ponder a couple of the vehicles that could have potential if she had the spare funds to completely fix them up. She was about to peruse the '71 canary yellow Volkswagen Beetle when something else caught her eye.

A true smile crept up unbidden on her lips as she clicked her way to the car neighboring the Beetle. It was a Camaro, mustard yellow in color with twin black racing striped trailing down its frame. She fingered the hood carefully, taking in any and all rust spots and faded paint chippings. Squinting her eyes in concentration she took a guess that the car was probably from around the mid-seventies, maybe a '76. She rounded it a few times, stopping once at the rear license plate. A smirk tugged into her features as she read '487-BEE'.

"A Bumblebee." She muttered as she moved to the driver's side door. The door opened easily without a single screech of metal or crunch signifying its age. With a pleased grin she slid into the car shutting the door firmly behind her.

She sunk down into the yellow and black leather seats as if they were made from that temperpedic foam conforming to her body perfectly. She traced her manicured fingers over the steering wheel marveling at how she just seemed to fit with this car. A strange symbol sat almost proudly in the center of the wheel, a square red face of sorts that she had a feeling meant something grand and great. She let her nail trace the lines of the face before leaning further back into the seat to take in the hanging ornaments above the mirror. 'Bee-Otch' bumblebee cardboard piece and a disco ball. She chuckled a little, convinced that those two pieces _had_ to go.

That's when it hit her. She wanted this car. The Neon was long since gone from her mind only to be replaced by this Camaro. She was already making a mental list of what she needed to do to clean the car and get it on the road.

"Sam?" She jolted at her father's voice beside the driver's side door. She gave him a heartfelt smile.

"I think I found it." She laughed, running her hands over the wheel again. With that her father stood back to take the vehicle in full. After a minute even he was smiling.

"You always did have a knack for picking 'em, didn't you?" He asked more of himself than her. His gaze quickly shifted to Bolivia who had a confused look on his face as he looked over the car himself. He almost looked as if he had never seen the Camaro before. "How much?"

"Well, uh…" He trailed off, scratching the back of his head with one grubby hand. Finally he shrugged his shoulders as if coming to a decision and grinned to them. "Five-thousand." Both she and her father frowned.

"I'm not paying any more than four." Ron assured the man with a grumble.

"Then you don't get the car." Bolivia bent down, resting his hands on the passenger side door to look in at her. "Come on kid, get out of the car."

"No way!" She crowed, crossing her arms stubbornly. "You can't ask for five-thousand for this!"

"Sure I can. Due to its semi-classic nature and custom paint job…" Sam didn't give him a chance to finish as she shook her head furiously.

"What? It was custom faded?" She shot back. The man scowled at her.

"The body alone of a Camaro is worth four-thousand. Now get out of the car." With that he stood back up and backed away from the car. Sam had the urge to get out and slap the man silly, but refrained. In order to do that she would have to leave the comforts of the car she was determined to be hers.

"Come on, Sam. There's a Fiesta over here that you can afford and it's in alright shape." Her father tried coaxing her away from her new baby. She was convinced that this _was_ her baby. No one else was going to have it.

"I don't want a Fiesta, Dad. I want _this_ car." She moved to get out of the car to check under the hood, perhaps to find something that she could use to make the price get knocked down some, but the door stuck. She checked the locks, but they weren't down signaling that the door should open. She shoved and wrenched at the door, but it did nothing. Her gaze flickered to her father. "It's stuck. I got in all right, but now the door's stuck."

Both Bolivia and her father worked from the outside to try and get the door to open. Neither muscle, leverage, nor foul explicates were enough to get the door to so much as creak. The two men backed away from the door before Bolivia waved his hands in surrender in the air.

"Just climb out through the window, kid." He ordered with a scowl. She gave him a questioning look. Did he not see that she was in a skirt and high heels earlier? Or did he want a free show? Maybe he was just that stupid?

"Just do it, Sam. The door's obviously not going to open." He father assured her.

"Yet another reason that it would be four-thousand." She spoke aloud to both men before readying herself to slide out through the window. Just as she braced her hands on the sill the door pushed open and flung into Bolivia's legs. The man grunted in pain, stumbling backwards. Sam had to cover her mouth with her hands to stifle her laughter.

"Guess it came unstuck." Ron chortled, his chest heaving with poorly contained mirth. Bolivia shot them both a fierce look. Sam got out with a smile before heading to the front of the car to look under the hood. This time it was her turn to grunt when the thing wouldn't cooperate and open. "That stuck, too?"

"Apparently." She grumbled, turning to sit on the hood with one heeled foot propped onto the front bumper. "I'm telling you, this car shouldn't be five-thousand, Camaro or not. The way it looks it's got more problems than is worth the funds to fix." She shot Bolivia a pointed look. His mouth opened about to retort when static filled the air, followed closely by the radio. Lady Gaga's _Money Honey_ came in loud and clear.

"_When you give me k-kisses,_

_That's money, honey._

_When I'm your lover and your mistress,_

_That's money, honey._

_When you touch me it's so delicious,_

_That's money, honey._

_Baby, when you tear me to pieces,_

_That's money, honey._"

"See, look, even the radio is busted!" She laughed out loud at the irony of the situation, not even trying to contemplate why the song somehow seemed to fit the situation at hand. Bolivia just shook his head, motioning for the Fiesta in the back of the lot.

"It doesn't matter, kid. A Camaro is a Camaro and it's not my fault you have a cheap-ass father." Both of them stiffened at this. Father and daughter passed a look to each other before Sam sighed, stood up and away from the car she really wanted, and followed her father to where his Ford was parked by the sidewalk. Damn the Fiesta. She'd go beg to her mother to pay the extra thousand for the Camaro before she drove that piece of crap.

"I'm sorry Mister Bolivia, but you've just lost your customers. Have a pleasant afternoon." Ron shouted over his shoulder as they moved. Sam was inwardly kicking herself, dismaying at her misfortune. It just figured, after finally deciding that she didn't want the Neon that was now the car she was going to be stuck with. Part of the deal with her father had been that she'd pay for the car herself with no outside help. No matter how much she wanted the Camaro, she didn't have the extra cash to tell the salesman to stuff it.

As she walked away she grumbled inwardly. Nothing ever went right in her life.

Just behind her she heard the radio tune once more, but this time it was accompanied not by static and music, but a loud shrill sound. Instantly she covered her ears and bowed her head down. Not ten seconds later glass shattered all around them as if the area had been hit with a sonic boom. All three of them gaped open-mouthed as they stared at the parked cars. Every single one of them had the windows blown out, except one…

"Four-thousand!" Bolivia shouted behind them as they stared open-mouthed at the whole Camaro. If Sam didn't know any better she would have claimed that the car was sitting there almost smugly pleased with itself.

Hell, she could claim that same self-arrogance herself right about now.

* * *

**Note:** Things are going to start to change a bit from here on out. I'll post again in a week or less. Please review.


	3. Chapter 3: How We Begin

**Chapter Three: How We Begin**

"Samantha!" A high, shrill voice called out dramatically as Travis pulled her out of her frozen split between his legs.

"Victoria Crosse! You know better than to interrupt my students when they're training!" Madame Lune dried indignantly, tapping her ballet slippered foot. Travis and Sam shared identical smiles of mirth.

"Yes ma'am. I know ma'am." Vicky hurried in trying to appease the dance coach at the studio that Sam had been training under for the last six years. "It's just that I saw…"

"No buts." Madame Lune scolded in a gruff manner. Sam looked towards the door from where she and Travis now stood erect before the wall of mirrors. Madame Lune, dressed in her leotards and slippers as always, was waving her instructing cane in Vicky's face. Vicky's already thin lips were pursed tightly together in frustration. "Samantha has ten more minutes of her training for today and then you can drag her wherever your adventurous heart desires. For now, though, she is mine. Shoo!"

Sam giggled fully as she watched a disgruntled Vicky get none-too lightly shoved out the door. Travis's chuckle rumbled through her back where he still held her. She quickly felt his lips near her ear, his effort to not be overheard by Madame Lune well known.

"She's going to ask you to be her designated driver to Mike's party tonight." He assured her. Sam groaned.

It had been a week since she'd gotten her Camaro. She's cleaned it, polished it, waxed it, and given it every ounce of care she had to get it looking nice. She'd even used the emergency cash she had under her bed, at least some of it, to purchase touch-up paint for it. Her father's buffer had enabled her to put a smoother, more appealing coat of paint onto the Camaro so that now it looked newer. She'd had to beg him to show her how to use the buffer properly so she wouldn't do more harm than good.

She might have imagined it, but when she was working on the car the day afterwards she could have almost believed that the Camaro had shivered with delight as she buffed it.

The only downside she saw to getting her car, though, was that she had become the new favorite to be assigned to be designated driver. Unless it was Miley, in which case it wasn't often, she refused. Miley was one of her only _true_ friends. They all but shared their Pampers stage together. Miley was without a doubt her closest friend in the world.

"I kinda figured that." She whispered back just as lowly as Travis.

A lot of guys at the studio that danced, shockingly to most, were straight men. They either had a passion for dancing, wanted a chance to pretty much grope women without reprimand, or their mothers had forced them into it. Of the twelve guys that presently danced full-time at the studio, Travis was the only gay guy.

Travis was a gangly sort of guy at first glance, but underneath all that shy awkwardness Sam had seen the dancer beneath. Travis and she had been partners for years, mostly due to the fact that since he wasn't interested sexually in women, and she'd gotten to know him well. She'd also become good friends with him and his boyfriend Stephan. Travis had inheritently pale skin and long limbs, but his face held an almost elfin-like quality to it. She had a time or two tried to get him to pierce all the way around his slightly pointed left ear, as her own ears were slightly pointed and equally pierced, but he always said no.

"Back to practice, children." Madame Lune ordered as she shut the door once more, this time locking them in.

Madame Lune worked them hard for the next ten minutes. They were training for the state competition in Mission City a month away. Already there was word travelling that she and Travis were rumored to be the competition to beat. They did everything from ballet to salsa to break dancing, though the last one was not taught by Madame Lune. Break dancing was considered a poor substitute for rocker gymnastics if ever she saw it.

Sam parted with Travis after they'd changed out of their training clothes and back into their normal day-wear. They embraced quickly, Sam thrilled that she didn't wince around Travis like she had done at first those years ago, before Travis pulled out his cell phone to text Stephan. It was their three year anniversary and they were going out to the Italian restaurant in town near the lake.

"Sammy!" At that nickname Sam did cringe. She hated being called 'Sammy'. If she had to have any nickname it was 'Sam'. Sammy reminded her too much of a young guy or a dog's pet name. "I saw your car!" Vicky squealed and she rolled her eyes.

Of course Vicky had seen her car. No one really ragged too badly on her car because she was known to defend her possessions well, but she had gotten a few snickers when she'd first returned back to school with it. Apparently everyone thought of her as loaded, her parents buying her everything, and expected her to show up in a Porsche or something similar. Wouldn't a possible clue to deny that idea be the fact that her own father drove a Ford S-Max? That was no sports car.

"Hello. Nice to see you too, Vicky." Sam sing-songed. This time Vicky was the one to roll her eyes.

Vicky was the typical cheerleader type. When they were growing up, both having been in pageants together, people often thought that they were the same people. Where Vicky was full of herself, considering herself well above everyone else in the world due to her social popularity and her beauty, and incredibly selfish, people soon came to find that Sam was none of these things. Sam had been raised with strict rules and an honor code. Yes she could be accused of yelling at someone or insulting them shamelessly, but she always had a reason and never did it behind their back. Sam was no Saint, but she was also no prissy bitch with a maintenance problem.

"Yeah. Hello Sam. How are you today? Good? Great!" She cheered quickly before grabbing Sam's hand to drag her out of the building. "You and me are going shopping. Mike's having a party down by the lake and you are _so_ coming with."

"It's you and I, Vicky." Samantha couldn't help but taunt. Vicky grumbled quite unlady-like. Sam only giggled. She excelled in English, always had, and often worked as a tutor at the school for extra cash. With Vicky's failing grades in that class, along with many of the others, Sam liked to remind her of that. Maybe the other girl should get past the whole platinum blonde, dumb teenager phase and stop sucking face with every jock in the school?

It was a lost cause the second she thought it.

"Whatever." Vicky sneered. When she continued her voice had the sour cheer back in her voice, the one that went to such a high pitch that dogs came running. "I saw these cute shoes that would just look so good on you! Daddy Glenn gave me his credit card and for giving me a ride I'll buy them for you."

Of course. _Daddy Glenn_. Vicky was a total kiss-ass to her step-father who spoiled her rotten. Glenn Mathewson was also a known drug dealer that the cops could never seem to catch. Samantha avoided the man like the plague, being both a brutish looking man as well as a serious threat. The man kept a damned semi-automatic in the glove compartment of his car for Heaven's sake! Sam knew better than to get involved with anything involving that man, his daughter usually included.

"Look, I'll take you. You don't have to buy me the shoes. Just don't go blabbing to your father that I was driving you, okay?" Vicky nodded her head furiously, obviously missing the fact that everyone but she and her mother was terrified of Glenn Mathewson, a history of violence in their past or not.

"All right. Let's see if we can find something cute for us to wear!" Vicky squealed as they arrived outside and before Sam's car.

Once again Sam could have sworn that she saw the car shudder with revulsion when Vicky began to dance upon her high-heel clad feet like a little girl that just got her way.

* * *

As Samantha held Vicky's hair out of her face she wondered how she ever got herself into these situations. Vicky continued to heave up all the alcohol she had been consuming even as Sam kicked herself for giving in to her better nature and agreeing to be the designated driver for this pathetic girl.

They'd gone to the mall and bought Vicky a new sun dress and shoes to match. Afterwards they had gone to eat at a nearby popular ice-cream parlor. Sam suffered through Vicky's never-ending drone on her life and all the men that flittered in and out of it. They'd been sitting together on the hood of her Camaro, Sam constantly checking to make sure that the other girl didn't drip ice-cream all over the hood. The latest wax and polish to her baby was not going to be ruined thanks to a slob.

Peculiar things had been happening all afternoon around the Camaro, though. While it was true that Sam had sensed something off every now and then around her new car, as if she could feel that it had a mind of its own, this day out with Vicky had proved to be a little more than unnerving. If she wasn't such an optimist she might have thought that all the little glitches suddenly sprouting to life in her car were indicative to a sentient nature.

When the radio had gone off more than once at inopportune times with startling accuracy to the situation Vicky had joked that the car was either possessed or Satan's Camaro.

Sam kept a careful tally of everything that her Camaro had been doing oddly. The headlights would suddenly flicker on and off if she tripped in the parking lot. The radio often clicked on with that unnerving accuracy. The seatbelts refused to come unhinged as they slowed to a stop, instead only snapping open once the car had been shifted into Park. Sam knew that that was not a bonus feature in even newer cars. The seat would also warm or cool sporadically, as if trying to regulate her body temperature. Vicky had been the first to mention this little trait, but when they looked for a possible add-in for seat heating they found nothing.

Then there was the little incident when some guy trying to get her number as they were leaving the mall.

She inwardly laughed at the memory. The guy, probably in his mid to late twenties in age, had followed them shamelessly from the mall after Vicky flirted with him. He'd been insistent that he get their numbers so that he could call on them for 'a good time' later in the week. Vicky had succumbed to his sleaze-ball charms, but Sam hadn't. She'd refused adamantly, a sneer in her voice. Still the idiot wouldn't give up.

She'd been about ready to put the car in reverse out of the parking space when the man reached in through her open window and wrapped his thick fingers tightly around her upper arm. She'd slammed on the brakes to glower at him.

"Don't be such a bitch, doll face." The man had laughed in her face, a hint of anger glinting in his eyes.

Without further ado, Sam slammed the car back into Park, balled her fist up, and aimed for the bozo's nose. As she swung, in mid arc the driver's side door thrust open just behind the wave of her fist. She remembered her eyes widening with shock. She hadn't touched the door, not even leaned into it, yet almost in the same instant that her fist knocked into the guy's crooked nose the door slammed into his legs and lower torso, thrusting the man back a few feet with grunts of pain. Vicky had laughed, apparently believing that Sam's punch had catapulted the man and not the truth that the door had come alive and done all the work.

The door stayed open, only slightly, while she stared at it in disbelief. She wasn't certain if she suspected it to sprout eyes and a mouth to shout surprise or for a camera crew to come running out from behind the nearby parked cars to tell her that she'd been Punk'd.

As soon as she shut the door, her fingers trembling, the radio station that was currently playing switched over with a static swoosh to something that made her laugh inwardly and reaffirm her first notions that the car wasn't as it seemed.

The Cell Block Tango from the musical Chicago had blared through the speakers, the words clean and clear.

_He had it coming, he had it coming_

_He only had himself to blame_

_If you'd have been there, if you'd have seen it_

_I betcha you would have done the same._

Vicky had gone deathly quiet and stared at the radio as she had. Sam guessed that the little crack about her new car being Satan's Camaro finally registered with her at last, that it might not just be a joke.

They'd changed at Sam's house before heading out to the party an hour or so before sunset at the lake. They were both welcomed with open arms, as all 'popular' kids were. Sam mostly danced with the girls while avoiding the alcohol at all costs as well as they boys frequenting the ice chests and punch bowl set up. Tiki torches were lit by dark so that their party wouldn't have to end.

By the time the slow dances had started, as well as a lot of the sex taking place behind the grove of trees, Sam had retreated to the hood of her Camaro while snacking on a small bag of chips she'd retrieved from the snack table.

She'd only been resting for several minutes before Lauren and Gabriella came darting up towards where she'd parked her car farther away from the others. Lauren and Gabby were twins and participated in gymnastics as well as danced part-time at the studio. Sam liked them a lot better than she liked most other popular kids because they weren't so stuck up. Though they did talk behind peoples backs, they never did so without good reason and did not spread rumors around.

At present both girls had looked half drunk and entirely too worried.

Without much ado the twins led Sam to the opened public bathrooms at the lake where it turned out Vicky was vomiting up a storm. Sam had sighed before leaning down to help her fellow female in need.

"Vicky?" Sam questioned softly once the blonde-haired girl ceased her up-chucking.

"Yeah?" It was a guttural sound, one that promised a raw throat and a splitting headache upon the morn.

"I think it's time I took you home." There was more that she wanted to say. She wanted to call Vicky an idiot, maybe even slap her for getting so wasted, but Sam knew that right now Vicky was already tearing herself a new one for her stupidity.

Without waiting for a response, Sam grabbed for Vicky's right arm and draped it firmly over her shoulders. The other girl, only slightly shorter than her, was inebriated enough that she wouldn't be able to walk by herself. Sam had escorted enough other drunken teens to their cars, even at seventeen years of age, to figure out the appropriate way to balance their bodies and still keep them moving.

"I don't feel so good." Vicky slurred. Sam fought back a chuckle.

"You wouldn't, honey. Drinking too much never feels good no matter how alleviating it is during the initial intoxication." Sam smirked to herself knowing that half the words she just spoke, though simple under any other circumstances, weren't likely to be understood by her fellow blonde teen. "Maybe next time you'll know better." She highly doubted it despite the slow bob of Vicky's head. Most likely Vicky was already an alcoholic, or well on her way to being one.

"One night porcelain throne worshipper a convert does not make." Her father's words echoed in her mind. It was true enough. How many people partied all weekend looking for a good time, woke up with a skull-splitting headache the next morning, vowing never to drink again so long as they lived through the torture of puking up their guts, only to return to the bar scene the next weekend?

Too many, that's how many.

Sam had only managed to drag Vicky about half way through the rowdy crowd of teenagers, some nearly as drunk as she, before a baritone voice called out to her from the nearly empty buffet-like table.

"Hey Sam!" The overly cheery voice of a Mister Michael Banes reached her ears almost as quickly as he did. "Woah, Vicky looks like shit." He spoke from the other side of the lolling girl. Sam snickered knowing that had Vicky been completely lucid that Mike might just be sporting a nice palm print to the side of his face for that comment.

"Yeah, she does. Since she clearly partied herself out it's now my responsibility to drive her home." She peered through her lashes over to Mike to see him scowling slightly.

"Have you drunken anything?" He demanded softly, his tone warning. She gave him her best 'what the hell is wrong with you' look. His eyes widened with understanding a second later, his cheeks flaming as well as any slap to the face would have. "Oh, jeeze, I'm sorry. That was stupid of me. Of course you weren't drinking. I just…Look, I'm really…Oh man!"

She had to stop to belt out her laughter. Well, would you just look at him, she thought to herself, Mister Suave is flustered.

"What's so funny?" He grumbled even though a faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

"You." She chuckled once she'd calmed. "Michael Banes, the original 'good-boy Playboy', is nervous of speaking to a girl. Now, if we're going to talk, can you at least grab the other side of Vicky and help me get her to my car?" He hurriedly obeyed, only to scowl back over at her.

"I'm not nervous." He assured her with finality. "I just didn't want to insult you."

"You didn't, at least not really." With Mike's help she managed to get Vicky to her Camaro in record time. It was Mike's turn to chuckle. "Now what?" She asked in puzzlement as she unlocked the passenger side door of her car.

"Didn't exactly peg you for an older car type of girl."

"What kind of girl did you peg me for?" Sam inquired with an impish grin as she maneuvered a half conscious Vicky into the back of the car. She gave Mike a careful look, one that made her bite her lip in consideration. "Are you going home now?" She asked suddenly, forgetting her previous one in an instant.

Mike shrugged. "Might as well. The party's pretty much ended except for the few swingers left in the bushes." Sam shivered at that mental image.

"Look, I'd really appreciate it if you helped me to get Vicky home. Can you sit with her in the back of the car while she's on her side to keep her from vomiting in her own mouth? It's just a precaution, but I'd still prefer to take it. I can either bring you back here to your car afterwards or just take you to your home if you didn't bring it or have one."

"I got a ride with one of the guys." He affirmed with a wicked smile. Sam bit her tongue. "I'd be happy to help."

"Um, just so we're clear," she stopped him before he could enter the car, "I don't want you touching me tonight. I'm not right after that night and I really am not into doing anything outside of a normal friendship with you."

Mike smiled sadly. She could just bet that he could still hear her screams in his head. She'd been vocal that night. She'd also been more vicious than she'd ever been in her life. She had even tried to maul the police officers when they came near her in her state of shock when they came after the call of a near rape.

"I understand." He nodded his head once, firmly, before getting into the back seat of the Camaro. She watched him adjust to hold Vicky's head over his lap before shutting the door. The seat would stay up until she unloaded Vicky and Mike could move up front.

"It'll take a bit to get to Vicky's house." Sam began as she pulled out of the spot she'd parked, her eyes firmly planted before her. "I'll get her to the door and to her father. You should probably stay in the car, though. He's, uh, well he's…"

"Like a mob boss and drug dealer?" Mike inquired with a chuckle. Sam did, too.

"Yeah, like a mob boss. He'd be less likely to shoot me for bringing home his wasted daughter than he would you." Sam's eyes darted to the strange symbol on the wheel as she felt it make a sudden jerk. If she wasn't so sure that cars were inanimate objects she would have said that the Camaro had been surprised. She was really beginning to wonder.

"Hey," Mike's voice brought her back out of her observations suddenly. Her eyes snapped back to the road as she tuned into what he was saying. "Did you ever sell that trunk of antiques? You know, the ones from your great uncle?"

"My grandfather, actually." Samantha corrected with a small smile. She'd brought them into school to have the history teacher look them over. They'd cleaned them and had a few lunch periods worth of discussion on what she had and what they were used for. "Some of it I have. Dad's having me keep a few things, like personal pieces that I originally posted. I pulled them off of eBay about a week ago."

"Like what?" He asked. She doubted that he was truly curious about the pieces, more like he was just trying to keep up a conversation.

"We're selling his navigation tools and such, but we are going to keep his old journals and his glasses in storage somewhere. Mom wants to have the glasses put in a kind of trophy case beside his urn in the living room."

"Those glasses were kind of cool, even with all those scratches in them." He intoned simply even as Vicky moaned.

Sam shrugged lightly. "I didn't get any bids on them anyways for the month that they were up."

The rest of the ride they made idle chitchat. Sam had been forced to pull over twice for Vicky to vomit, something that she didn't mind doing so much since she didn't want to have to clean her car out so thoroughly. At Vicky's large tutor home Sam parked as close to the front door as she could before setting the car and attempting to get out.

The key word here being 'attempt'.

"What's wrong?" Mike asked from the back seat as Sam fumbled with the handle and the clearly unlocked door.

"The door's stuck." She growled.

"It's what?" Mike laughed. Sam glared back at him over the seat. He smacked his hand over his mouth when he caught the promise of retribution in her eyes. "You just got in that door! It didn't even squeak when you opened it before."

"I know. It did this the first time I bought it." Sam pulled back from it then before thrusting her foot into it hoping maybe to dislodge whatever had gotten stuck within the door. "It also seems to have the same problem with opening spontaneously."

"You can't be serious." Judging by the sudden stiffening of the jock's body she could tell that the scathing look she sent him was working its charm in showing him that she was not lying.

Sam worked at the door for a bit more before shuffling over to try and get out the passenger door. She got the same results with the same effort. Eventually she sagged into it, her lips pursed into a thin line. "You know, I'm starting to think that Vicky was right about this car being Satan's Camaro. This thing has either the best or the worst timing about letting me out when I need to go somewhere." She smacked the dashboard beside her with a hard fist.

The radio clicked, the words spewing forth from the speakers making her laugh at the absurdity.

_I wanna take you away_

_Let's escape into the music_

_DJ let it play_

_I just can't refuse it_

_Like the way you do this_

_Keep on rockin' to it_

_Please don't stop the_

_Please don't stop the music_

"And then there's that little problem!" She shouted over 'Please Don't Stop The Music' by Rihanna. She fumbled with the radio until it clicked back off before sighing. "I love this car, don't get me wrong, but I'm starting to think that I paid too much for it. It's obviously defective."

Samantha let out a shrill squawk as she fell backwards out of the suddenly open passenger door. She landed with a painful thud onto the paved driveway of Vicky's home and growled up at her car.

"You are a real turd, you know that?" She stood with as much dignity as she could muster and kicked the front right tire. "Next time I round a corner I'm going to make sure you get a nice scrape along your frame from a light pole." She was so busy staring daggers into her Camaro that she didn't hear Mike chuckling in the back seat. After a minute or two of fuming she managed to rope in her control and collect Vicky, though not before smirking devilishly at Mike. "And I'll make sure to key your car the next time I see it."

Mike rolled his eyes.

Sam moved as best she could while shuttling Vicky. At the front door she rung the bell and waited. It didn't take long for the porch light to flicker on, nor for the impressive male that was Glenn Mathewson to be standing before her in the open doorway. His eyes took in his slouched daughter swiftly before refocusing on her entirely.

"I suppose you expect some sort of payment?" It was a partial question spoken in a gravely voice, one made so by the use of cigarettes or cigars frequently.

"No, sir. Vicky and I went to the party together. She just wanted me to make sure that she got home safe in case she got like this." Sam didn't lift her eyes to his knowing that he was a dangerous, dominant male. Eye contact only made them more confrontational. Glenn huffed before stepping forward and sweeping his daughter up into his thick arms. It was overly obvious that he spent many hours in the gym working out to keep up his physical brutality.

"Get on home girl." He grumbled out before turning back into his house leaving her standing alone, her spine stiff. Only once the porch light was turned off did Sam sigh with relief.

_It could have gone much worse._ She assured herself before getting back into the Camaro.

The door opened seamlessly. Once she was in she barely took notice that Mike had moved to the passenger seat before she reversed rapidly out of the driveway. She remained silent for a time allowing her nerves to come down some from the memory of being in Glenn's presence. Men were bad, criminal men hiding behind their money were worse. The latter of those men tended to have more malicious minds.

"Sam?" Mike inquired tentatively, pulling her out of her reverie. She gave him a sidelong glance and a half smile. "You all right?"

"Yeah. Just calming down."

The car dissolved into silence for another minute or so before Mike sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "How are you doing…you know, after that? I know that this sounds incredibly rude, but you've been really distant since Tucker…well, you know."

"Yeah, Mike. I know." The snap in her tone was somewhat relieved by the sudden downturn to her mouth. She let out a harsh breath after a second. "I just don't do well with males anymore. I can be around them now, like I can have you alone with me in the same car, but I still have a thing about physical contact." She let out a humorless chuckle. "I never really was one for touching much beforehand anyway."

"Isn't your dance partner a guy?" The question surprised her. Sam turned to Mike with wide owl eyes earning her a deep laugh. "Come on, Sam! You're a popular girl at school! Of course I know about you. Everyone does. Heck, Miley's always bragging. So, your partner's a guy?"

Sam let a genuine smile lick up the sides of her mouth. "Yeah. Travis also happens to be gay."

"Oh. Oh!" His surprise made her laugh uncontrollably. It seemed to be addictive as he too broke out into hysterics. Sam barely kept control of the car her body shook so badly. Mike settled back into his own seat after a time, still grinning from ear to ear. "Phew! I was feeling inadequate for a second there. You know, Sam, I really would like a chance to go out with you. I promise no touching. We can even bring others. I would just really like to get to know you better."

"Why?" She had to ask.

"Why not?" He quipped back. His smile was as sure as the pure look in his eyes. It was the first time Samantha had really seen any genuine 'good guy' personality in a male or even a female for some time. "Sure you're popular and probably the hottest girl in school," he ignored her snort, "but you've also got a better personality than half of the state of females. I mean it, too. I don't think that I've ever heard a bad rumor spread about you, not even one that might claim you to have split ends. You're always helping out at the school when you don't have to and when you give your word you don't break it. Truth be told, I don't think I would have had the balls to keep my word to Vicky to take her back to her father tonight. Seriously, Sam, you're someone that I'd really like to get to know better even if you don't see me as boyfriend material."

Sam remained silent, driving the speed limit to Mike's house. She'd been there before. Most people had. Mike didn't live in a big house, but it was well kept. His mother mostly spent her time in her bedroom watching television and drinking while his father worked at a mechanic's shop, so he was left mainly to himself. He held frequent parties or invited others over to watch various games.

She wouldn't believe that Mike didn't want to have sex with her. She couldn't. No matter what he said she knew that he'd want a relationship with her, or at least have her think that they had a relationship, in order to get into her pants. At his age most boys weren't interested in commitment and she sure as snot wasn't prepared for one either. She'd been too long in fearing men. It just wouldn't work out.

But who was to say that she couldn't learn from this?

The proverbial light bulb went off in Sam's head. No, she didn't want to have sex with Mike. No, she didn't want to have a relationship with him. But maybe, just maybe, she could relearn what it was like to be around guys again.

As an added bonus she might actually teach the dumb jock not to string girls along just for the sex.

Yeah, that could work.

Samantha kept herself silent until she pulled into Mike's driveway, some sick part of her wanting to make him sweat it out, and then turned to face him. She gave him a nervous half smile, one that had his eyes lighting up like a kid in a candy store. It was a unique look that she'd never seen from the jock before.

"Fine. Tell you what, come by the studio tomorrow at two. It's when I get done with training. We'll go back down to the lake. Miley told me that she and a few of the others were going down for just a swim."

"That sounds great, Sam." He beamed widely before popping the door open. "I'll see you tomorrow then."

Samantha watched him retreat to his front door, gave him a small wave as he entered, and then slammed her head into the steering wheel. "I am such a horrible person for using him." She mumbled. She almost did expect it when the radio clicked on and the stereo blared.

_And with a sad heart I say bye to you and wave_

_Kicking shadows on the street for every mistake that I had made_

_And like a baby boy I never was a man_

_Until I saw your blue eyes cry and I held your face in my hand_

"'Hate Me' by Blue October? Really?" Sam stared at the radio for a second before clicking it back onto a station that she liked. As she backed up out of the driveway to head home she let a joking smile grace her lips. "You really need to work on your people skills, my little Bumblebee. If you're not careful I might just get you into a tiny fender bender to learn some manners."

She was almost certain that she didn't imagine the sudden flare of her high-beams before they snapped back to normal.

* * *

Three o'clock in the morning;

Sound asleep in bed, too exhausted to even twitch, the residents of the Witwicky household missed the revving of an engine within the confines of their driveway. No one noticed the old, driverless Camaro reversing out onto the main road towards the industrial part of town nor when it came back less than two hours later playing a jaunty tune of 'Little Bitty Pretty One' with an extra spring in its shocks.

* * *

**Notes:** I hope that y'all are liking this. I would really like more reviews on my work and if anyone has any questions, sees anything off like spelling or wants to make a point on possible changes in plot (though I will not guarentee that I will change anything), or simply wants to remark on it, please feel free. Remember not to 'cuss me out'. I don't appreciate foul language directed towards me or others, though constructive criticism is welcomed.

Also keep in mind that everything outside of what I'm writing is happening (Qatar and the hacking, all of it). The only pieces that change are what I'm writing now.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing 'Transformers'. I only lay claim to my own personal ideas and change-ups.


	4. Chapter 4: There's Something Wrong

**Chapter Four: There's Something Wrong**

Samantha buried her head into her arms on the front desk. She didn't want to work today, especially in the back office. If she had to work anywhere she preferred to do it out on the floor training some of the younger girls. Paperwork was her worst enemy! Especially when right after that she had her own two hour training session to worry about.

"Oh come on, Sam, it's not that bad." Daniela remarked from her seat next to her. She was happily crunching away numbers on her calculator. Sam just huffed in annoyance. She was certain that that woman could smile while getting her teeth pulled out _without_ Novocain! She wasn't a morning person, a late night partying regardless, let alone someone that could tolerate sitting around for more than a couple minutes at a time.

"You know, I really should start keeping a tally on how many times you say 'it's not that bad' in front of me." She mocked into the fake wood of the desk they shared. She heard Daniela's bubbly laughter from next to her.

"And I should start counting how many times you mumble to yourself. I think I'd be able to fill a six-hundred page book in under four hours."

"I don't mumble that much!" She wailed indignantly, raising her head to look into the face of her fellow employee, friend, and cohort in dastardly deeds.

Daniela was a black haired, dorky beauty at the bold age of thirty. She liked dorky guys. True, she enjoyed looking at pictures of wet European male supermodels, what girl wouldn't, but she enjoyed her geeks as much as the next computer guru. Her ebony locks was always strategically messy, but never dirty. Daniela had that perpetually messy bed-head thing going on that men found so attractive. Unless she was in work where she had to wear training outfit or dress clothes consisting of skirts and dress tops she preferred her 'smart-ass comment t-shirts' and baggy, yet appropriate jean pants. Wherever she was she wore her 'lucky' black Nike shoes, unless in training and then she wore her ballet slippers. Her eyes were a unique brown flecked with gold specks. She had an infectious laugh. Sam knew that despite the fact that Daniela was a self proclaimed geek she had some muscle definition and kept in the sun, so her skin was the same perfectly golden hue as her own. Personality wise Daniela was funny, goofy, smart, and very rarely self possessed. Sam couldn't deny that she preferred to work with Daniela than most anyone else at the studio.

"Yes, you do." She laughed, patting Sam on the shoulder. "You hold yourself back from punching someone's face in by mumbling to yourself. If you didn't do it I'd fear for the safety of every individual in this building."

"Hey, I love the kids." Sam chuckled.

Sam conceded to the elder woman's logic, though. She was an emotional person, though she rarely ever let herself get violent. That's why she danced. It let her work out her spare energy and anxiety. She used to play football with some of her guy friends before everything went down and they admitted to the fact that she was a force to be reckoned with. She could be tackled by a guy twice her weight and come bouncing back like a jack-in-the-box.

"Sorry." She whispered, knowing that she was apologizing for annoying Daniela with all of her 'mumbling'. The older woman only laughed and rubbed her hand through Sam's long, flowing hair.

"S'alright. I think it's funny." Sam giggled a little, pulling Daniela's hand off of her head.

"You think everything's funny!"

"No, not everything." She smiled widely before crunching numbers again. Shaking her head Sam went back to categorizing all the new dancers while Daniela handled the books. It _was_ a two person job!

After about an hour of grumbling on Sam's part and laughing on Daniela's they had finished. Sam threw herself back in her chair dramatically, the momentum of it sending her rolling backwards. Daniela chuckled at her before pushing herself to Sam's side where she sat in the middle of the walkway.

"How 'bout we go out for lunch?" She asked joyfully. Sam's eyes widened as she stared at the older woman. "My treat. Chocolate dipped ice-cream and all!"

"Ah! I love you girl!" Sam leapt up to her feet in a flourish, her pinstripe pants wagging comfortably around her smooth legs. She stretched widely so that her entire body arched. She was planning on getting her ice-cream fix anyway, why not go with Daniela, especially when she was buying? She was all but jumping up and down with giddiness.

"Gee, I wonder what you'd say if I got you _two_ cones instead of one." Daniela mocked as she too stood, pushing both of their chairs back to the table.

"I'd say that you were lying to me and trying to get my hopes up!" She grabbed the black haired woman's right arm with her left hand and began to drag her towards the door. "Speed up, woman! I'm hankering for some frozen delights!"

"Alright, hold your horses. You're pulling my arm out of its socket."

"Then I guess that you should just hurry your ass up!" She did release her, but kept moving through the back entrance. She hustled towards Daniela's awaiting piece of crap Volkswagen. Daniela came out of the building at a steady pace shaking her head at Sam. "Come on! My grandma can walk faster than that and she's had a hip replacement!" She yelled to him with a chortle.

"You're seventeen years old and you act like you just slipped into the beginning of puberty!" Daniela's laugh echoed through her soothingly.

"Hey, it makes things interesting." She complained without feeling. She slapped her fists onto her hips and pouted at her friend dramatically. She just shook her head as she pulled her car keys out of her back pocket.

"Yes it does. I don't know where I'd be without my little spitfire."

"Not so little anymore." She interjected as the door unlocked for her. Sam slid into the passenger seat with a faint smile. "I'm not the ten year old you met so long ago."

"Don't I know it!" She chuckled as the car sputtered to life. Every time Sam got in the car she felt like laughing. The thing was about ready to fall apart, but Daniela loved it. She had said that she would drive it until the frame fell off. Sam had little doubt that she wouldn't. She couldn't help but think that her own Camaro, now sitting idly on the other side of the parking lot behind the studio, was in better condition despite its older age. "You're worse now!" Sam punched her playfully in the arm.

"Just for that I _will_ make you get me two cones!"

They both laughed happily as Daniela drove them to her favorite ice-cream joint in town. The owners of the shop practically had her picture up on the wall she was there so often outside of work and training. She would never allow them to do such a thing, though. It wasn't as if her parents didn't post her picture everywhere they could find to show how proud they were of her. What would people make of her addiction to sweets?

It took only a few minutes to reach Tasty Treats. Daniela parked the car with a few exasperated clanks from the engine. She just laughed it off. Sam shook her head before bolting from the car to the walk-up window. The girl manning the window smiled at her politely for a split second before her mind registered the frequent customer.

"Jack, hide the chocolate syrup! She's back!" Marissa shouted into the back of the serving area. A male head poked out from the open doorway where Sam could see and a waving hand followed.

"Hey Sam!"

"Hi Jack!" With that he disappeared back to do his work. "How are you today, Marissa?"

"Just great. The usual?"

"Vanilla cone dipped." She assured the younger girl. She was about to walk away when she registered that Sam was not her only customer. When Marissa was on break Sam had told her about her great friendship with the elder woman, a woman that Sam saw as a kind of second part-time mother. The girl recognized the woman behind her almost instantly and sent Sam a mischievous smile. "What about you, Daniela?"

"Just a twist for me, thanks."

"Alrighty then." Marissa winked to Sam before heading into the serving area to get their cones.

Sam and Daniela talked together as they waited patiently for their cones. Her eyes skimmed their all too familiar surroundings. Sam came to Tasty Treats at least three times a week. She was used to seeing the same cars on the street, the old worn out billboard sign suspended from one of the neighboring buildings, as well as the graffiti on one of the abandoned cars missing wheels. It was a cop car that threw her for a loop.

She looked over the car intently. She wondered faintly if the cops were starting to make Mustangs into their police cruisers because this one was definitely a Stang. It looked brand spanking new, too. She looked it over carefully, her eyes narrowing at a very unsecure feeling she had developing down in the pit of her stomach. She guessed that it might have been the slogan on the side of the vehicle that put her ill at ease. Instead of 'to protect and serve' it said 'to punish and enslave'. She had a very real urge to run away…

_Run away as fast as my legs can carry me._

"Sam?" Daniela's worried voice reached her. She whirled on her. Her hand gripped Samantha's shoulder where she was starting to shake her. Her eyes read anxiousness to Sam. "Are you okay? You spaced out there for a second. You're not having an episode are you?" She shook her head, knowing what the older woman was asking. The last time she'd stiffened up in public was when a man on the streets had groped her. That was the time that Daniela realized the severity of Sam's fear of men, or at least her contact with them.

"No, I'm not having a relapse. Hey, when we get our ice-creams can we just go? I've got a bad feeling and I can't shake it." She pleaded with a dry voice, her gaze flicking constantly to the cruiser.

"Yeah, sure, of course." Daniela knew her well enough by now to know that her suspicions were usually spot on. She had a knack for sensing trouble. After she'd gotten them out of various fights throughout town or after the studio closed on late nights without ever getting them near the tussles Daniela stopped joking around with Sam about her having a kind of 'sixth sense'.

Daniela handed the money quickly to Marissa when they got their cones and told her to keep the change. They hurried back to her car. Sam held onto both their cones shakily while Daniela drove away. She didn't mean to startle her, but she was still fighting with her anxiety. She couldn't shake the nagging feeling that they needed to get away. She stared out the back window while Daniela constantly checked the rear-view mirror.

"What do you think it was?" She asked Sam after they had gone a 'safe' distance.

"I don't know. It had something to do with that cop car."

"You think it's one of those cars that bombers put explosives in?" She queried shyly. Sam started involuntarily. After a second she just shrugged her shoulders indifferently, though she doubted that anyone would target Tranquility Nevada for a terrorist or 'example' bombing. If anything Mission City would be a better choice since it would reach a wider expanse of people, make a bigger impression.

"I don't know, Daniela. Maybe. I just know that I didn't like it. I've got the chills." She admitted shyly.

"It's okay. Let's just get back to the studio and get you ready for training and then your 'not date'. Maybe we can even recheck our work beforehand." Sam glared at the black-haired woman, the earlier moment of dread gone. It was replaced with mockery.

"Oh yeah, submit me to that torture again for accuracy's sake. Why not just stab a pencil through my heart and be done with it?"

"Because you're too much fun."

Despite herself she laughed. She could never stay around Daniela without breaking into a fit of laughter, at least not for long.

* * *

Samantha slipped her backpack over her shoulder as she moved back out to the front room. Every now and then she would think back to her encounter with the strange police cruiser and a new set of Goosebumps would rise upon her skin. There was just something very wrong with that car and she couldn't shake the feeling that she wasn't going to get off easy and not see it again. She just wasn't that lucky.

"Sam!" Mike's baritone voice reached out to her at once and startled her from her thoughts. She quickly shook her head clear and smiled up at the jock. "How was training?"

"Good. It was good." She spotted the red and black backpack on Mike's own shoulder and grinned. "Bring the volley ball?"

"Heck yeah!" He hollered as they made their way together towards the studio doors. "I'm on your team this time, though. No matter how much your team sucks you always seem to win. I'm not getting stuck on the loser's side this time."

"I'm just that good." She jested with a wry chuckle.

"Did you watch the news yesterday? About those American soldiers that were taken as Prisoners of War over in Qatar? The Sec. doesn't think we're getting them back. You can see it in his eyes."

Sam shrugged. "I don't watch much of the news. I'm usually pretty busy. There was a radio report about it on the earlier this morning when I was coming here, though." Sam nibbled on her lip in thought even as Mike held the back door open for her. She gave him a single nod before proceeding through towards her car. "I don't really think they were taken by an enemy or else the Secretary of Defense wouldn't be so adamant that they weren't coming back. POWs are usually fought and traded for. Either they're dead and the government is covering it up, which has a very high likelihood since this _is_ America, or the government is trying to get something out of someone."

"Are you a natural pessimist?" Michael chuckled under his breath, his eyes twinkling.

"Nope. I'm just better at reading people and things than most."

"Ah, just like you can read Satan's Camaro?"

"Don't laugh!" Sam cried as she stomped one sneakered foot childishly. She was wearing her jean shorts and a thin long-sleeved white shirt that revealed her pale blue one-piece bathing suit underneath. "I'm telling you, sometimes I think it's alive!"

"Oh, right, sure. And I just bet it has a name." Mike laughed deeply as Sam unlocked the doors to allow them into the interior.

"As a matter of fact, he does." Sam huffed, tossing her bag into the back seat. Mike threw his back along with hers, a slight tilt to his brow as an indication to go on. With a lengthy sigh Sam rolled the engine over before answering. "Look at his coloring and note his license plate. I get the distinct impression of 'Bumblebee'."

"Bumblebee?" He snorted, snapping his seat belt into place. "Why not Hornet or Wasp? I mean Bumblebee just sounds so kiddish."

"Hey, don't rag on my possessed baby!" Sam swept her fingers sensually over the steering wheel, a devilish smile curling her lips. She felt the vibration again. "My little Bumblebee is amazing. Little bumblebees are the fighters of the hive, the true warriors. They only have one true shot, but when they make it they go in for the kill."

Mike roared with laughter. "Right! I'd love to see the day this piece of junk does anything other than collect rust. Sorry to be the one to tell you this, Sam, but your car is no 'fighter'. It's an antique."

"He's still my baby." She reassured him with a light smile, her thumbs caressing the strange symbol on the wheel. "Hey, do you know what this symbol is?"

"Huh?" Mike leaned closer, Sam pulling back slightly to maintain her space. She watched both the road and Mike as he contemplated the boxy face symbol before reclaiming his side of the car. "Got me. Could be a custom piece put in by the previous owner. Like, the first one could have been broken off and this one made to be put in its place. Don't ask me what it means, though. With your luck it's probably some gang symbol."

"Maybe." Sam mumbled, her eyes straying to the symbol once more before returning to driving.

They continued their idle chat through the town towards the lake. The lake, one of the most popular hang-out spots in town as well as the 'party place', was at the farthest edge of town. The nicest, most beautiful, and most expensive homes were located beside the lake. It was really quite humorous that the one tourist attraction for the town was surrounded by wealth and beauty while anyone that lived within Tranquility had to detour through one of three choices of less desirable accommodations of the town. Two of them were more frequently used as they were simply grungier homes with descent families, the third tracked through the old business district. It rarely saw anybody within it and it was the fastest route. Sam normally took this route unless it was dark, in which case it would take someone holding a gun to her head to get her to even come within five minutes of the district.

The music rocked through the car pleasantly as they laughed together. They were close to the middle of the district when the sound of blaring sirens caused Sam to jerk in her seat. A quick peak in her rear-view mirror revealed to her that there was a cop on her tail. With nobody else around she knew that she was expected to pull over. Furrowing her brow while slowing down she saw that she had not been speeding.

"Maybe my brake light is out." She guessed aloud.

"I don't know. Just pull over so he doesn't give us crap about running from the law." Both of them snorted.

Samantha pulled over onto the side of the road taking in the dilapidated buildings and roadways surrounding them. She knew that gangs often congregated here to scrap cars and make drug deals in the abandoned warehouses. She wasn't even sure if any of the buildings were still in working order. Graffiti spotted everything. This definitely wasn't a place you wanted to be caught in after dark.

Another swift check to her mirror Sam discovered that the cop hadn't yet exited his cruiser yet. Both she and Mike eyed each other after a few more minutes before looking over their seats towards the mustached cop.

"What the heck is his problem?" The jock grumbled, his foot twitching on the floor board. "Look, he's not even checking the CB or those dash computers to call up license plates. He's just sitting there staring at us."

"Maybe he's on crack." She joked without humor. She might have tried to make her statement into something humorous if she wasn't getting the sudden chills curling up her spine in a slow ascent.

She gasped loudly when her eyes probed the front grill of the cruiser to find the chrome stallion…a Mustang. The chills ascended at a quicker pace until her heart began to beat at a frantic pace. Flashes of earlier that day with the cop car sitting outside the ice-cream shop zipped through her mind like an old home movie. She had no doubts whatsoever that should she exit the car, something that she was no inclined to do, that she would find the words 'to punish and enslave' labeled across the paneling of the cruiser.

"I know that car." She whispered, her tone edging towards frantic.

"What?" Mike gave her a disbelieving look. Sam didn't let her attention deviate from the cruiser.

"I got ice-cream with a friend of mine earlier today. That cruiser was sitting right across the street. I don't know why, but it freaked the snot out of me and I had to get away from it as soon as possible. I felt like it was…I don't know…like it was watching me or something. And I'm getting that same eerie feeling right now, too."

They stayed silent, both watching the car behind them. Nobody moved, not them and not the cop. Sam couldn't be certain, but the cop didn't even look like he was paying attention. He was sort of just staring off straight into open space, as if they weren't there. That thought didn't make her feel any better.

"Dude, what the hell does this freak want? It's been like ten minutes and he hasn't even twitched." Mike's arm reached out for the handle to his door as if he was about to open it when all the locks in the car slunk down into the jab with a _thunk_. Both of their eyes widened. "Did you do that?" Mike's voice was surprisingly high.

"No." Sam squeaked.

The sound of a revving engine behind them caused both to jump and Sam to scream. The cruiser was coming straight for them at ramming speed. "Ohmigod!" She screamed as she whirled in her seat attempting to reach her keys to start the car back up and get out of the way enough to prevent her car from getting totaled by psycho-cop.

What she least expected was for the car to start by itself.

"What the hell?" Mike hollered as the Camaro shot forward at an amazing speed, the tires squealing on the pavement beneath them. He turned a glare onto her from where he had been jarred into the seat by the spectacular takeoff before he realized that Sam wasn't the one spinning the wheel around, adjusting the shift, or pressing on the pedals. At any other time the sickly pale shade that Mike turned might have been humorous.

Right now it wasn't.

She and Mike took by the call by screaming their bloody heads off, their fingers curling into the leather seats in an effort to deflect the body-jarring turns the Camaro was making. "Dear God, please tell me that this is just an elaborate joke!" Mike shouted over the roar of the two engines.

Sam couldn't look away from the scenery of warehouses whizzing by at a terrifying speed. "If it is the joke's on me, too! Oh shit! Look out!"

She wasn't sure who she was shouting it to, but it just came out. The Camaro flew around a corner, narrowly dodging a brick wall. Mike's head smashed against the window with a sickening thud while Sam's hip scraped against the center console. They barely had time to recover before the Camaro was making a head-on-collision course for a wall of filmy pane glass windows. Sam's screamed turned soprano as she buried her head under her arms and prepared for impact.

With a groan of metal and a rev of the engine, the Camaro blasted through the glass wall like it was tissue paper. Glass tinged off of the car loudly. Samantha hazarded a look in the rear window only to find the police cruiser still tailing them, though this time at a larger distance.

The Camaro moved fluidly, as if it was of the water, as it led the cruiser on a merry chase that left Sam's stomach in tumbles and her eyes leaking. She would listen to Mike wail and groan in both dread and pain with every maneuver the car made. Finally, after what must have been hours to them and minutes to the rest of the world, they lost sight of the cop car. Sam's eyes watered with a mix of relief and terror. She wanted to believe that they'd truly ditched the cruiser, but those cold fingers dancing across her spine refused to allow her to believe it.

"I think we lost him." Mike sighed with exasperation, his head whirling every which way frantically. "I think we're…"

He never got the chance to finish as they were swiped at the tail of the Camaro. Sam screamed with a hoarse throat as her car fishtailed out of control. Before she really knew what was going on the driver's side door popped open mid-stop, catapulting she and Mike head-first out of the car. Instincts kicked in as she ducked and rolled, her body curled as tightly about itself as it could get to cushion her more vital areas. She didn't release her self-imposed ball until she had stopped rolling like a deficient bowling ball.

The room spun as Sam forced herself to her feet. She teetered precariously on her own two feet for a moment before she was able to widen her stance enough to keep upright. When her vision came back into focus she almost wished that she was temporarily blind.

They were currently in one of the old packing warehouses that crated and hoisted various pieces of machinery. The roof of the warehouse was raised high overhead and sported numerous holes in the metal sheeting of the roof as well as several massive cranes, most of which still latched onto crates. The floors and walls shook ominously, dangerously, from impacts and sound blasts. To any bystander outside the warehouse it might appear that an earthquake was occurring.

Too bad she wasn't one of those lucky bystanders.

No, what she was seeing was not an earthquake. What she was witnessing was the mechanical version of WWF Smackdown. Two metallic giants, one black, silver, and yellow, the other black, white, and silver, were having at it in the middle of the warehouse. They flung themselves at each other, metal creaking and tearing, strange clicks, whirls, and a growled language echoed throughout the vast room. Sam screamed when the black and white monolith tossed the yellow one over her head like a ragdoll to tumble through more panes of glass and out of the building.

Piercing red eyes landed on her in a heart-stopping moment of icy dread. The instinct of fight or flight soared to the front of Sam's mind. Knowing instantaneously that she couldn't injure the mechanical giant towering over her in the slightest within a fraction of a second, her legs propelled her for the nearest exit…which just so happened to be a massive hole in the wall created by the rumble and tumble of the two titans.

As she turned Sam caught sight of jagged teeth, or at least they looked like teeth, and then heard a deafening roar. She screamed as she ran with all haste for any chance at freedom, at a future. The tremor of the giant's footfalls behind her only caused her own pace to quicken.

"Shit! Shit! Shit!" She yelled out to no one in particular, noting somewhere in the recesses of her mind how ironic that statement was. It was a curse word, but it was also an exclamation on how much she really wanted to crap her pants she was so terrified. Another note ticked off to the first on how pointless it would be to wear clean underwear to a doctor's office after a situation like this.

No sane individual left alive would have an unsoiled rear end.

Samantha howled in agony as the back of the giant's hand smashed into her. It gave new meaning to the phrase backhanded, that was for sure. With the force of the hit she was tossed several feet through the air until she landed painfully upon a scalped car. Whether it was just the windshield or her back as well that cracked upon impact was hard to tell, but she was distinctly aware of shards of glass cutting into her skull.

The robot dropped both arms menacingly to either side of the car, a jarring impact that caused a tremor and in turn fully shattering the windshield. With a shriek Sam fell backwards into the topless vehicle and onto a layer of shattered glass. Her eyes were wide as she stared up into the face of the red-eyed giant.

A growl sounding not too dissimilar to a revving engine pounding through her ears from the direction of the robot. Words followed, a tumble of menace and power.

"ARE YOU 'LADYKNIGHT127?"

Sam's brain died for an instant. Well, maybe stalled would be a better acronym. She was stuck on the fact that the robot could actually speak. Some part of her wondered how when he didn't seem at all physically able to do such a thing, but the bigger part of her kicked back into start mode to decipher the question.

Had he really just asked her about her e-bay name? Deciding that it was better to humor the metal monster than to piss it off further, Sam answered honestly.

"Y-y-yeah." She cursed the tremble in her voice, but who wouldn't have been ready to pee their pants at a moment like this?

"WHERE IS E-BAY ITEM 21143?"

Oh damn, she was in deep crap. No, she was in hell. There was no other explanation. How could this behemoth possibly find interest in the things she had been selling on the internet? Looking between his eyes she realized that this giant was the cop car. Psycho-cop. Now she had reason to believe that was true.

"WHERE ARE THE GLASSES?" The robot roared into her face, only a foot or so away. She screamed, turning her head away as if it would make him go away.

"I don't know! I don't have them with me!"

She watched with wide, horror filled eyes as the giant roared what sounded like a battle cry and raised a curled fist high above him poising it to descend upon her like a bug. Just as she stiffened her body and prepared for a rather painful death, one reserved for already chopped, _dead_, meat, she heard a definite _ping_ from above her.

"Hey laser lips!" A baritone voice yelled out from behind the robot. Sam's eyes became like saucers, a chuckle-worthy sight under different circumstances, as she trained her eyes onto a dirty Mike. He was holding what appeared to be battery pack for a cordless drill. "Your Momma was a snow blower!" He bellowed, throwing the second battery pack.

Sam took her chances as the behemoth growled to scramble out of the car and out of grabbing distance. Her feet carried her towards Mike was. Her hand snatched his, never faltering in step, and hauled him along with her. The feet pounding behind them was swiftly joined by another until they both fell face first to the ground to avoid being flattened by the rolling duo of yellow and black.

Samantha registered belatedly that the yellow one was most probably her Camaro.

_Oh great. All I wanted was a damned car and I get giant robots stuck on the idea of killing each other and me._

She and Mike watched with sick enthrallment as the robots brutalized each other. They stood on shaky legs when the yellow one, her Camaro, sent blue eyes their way. Sam could almost see the plead in them urging them to run away while they could. She was about to act on that very plea when the duo tumbled into what appeared to be a vat of oil. The slick as snot liquid flooded from the broken tank and under all of their feet.

Mike was the first to try and run again, only he took her with him. Their flee to safety turned into an ill-timed game of slip-and-slide. Sam rocketed through the slick gunk and straight into a series of levers upraised from the ground. Thick wires led from the four and a half feet tall set of five switches to a large metal container. Her eyes trailed the box quickly only to discover that the box hand more wires extending from it towards the cranes. One of these cranes, loaded with a massive metal crate, hung almost expectantly above the dueling titans.

Without thought Sam fiddled with the levers. A sick, sadistic smile twisted her plump lips as she found the one controlling the crane above the duo and that the power, however it was pumped in, was still flowing. Mike was behind her, a smile on his own lips.

Calling out on sheer guess work and praying that she wasn't wrong, Sam gripped the appropriate lever tightly between dirty fingers. "Yo, Camaro! Dive!" With that she thrust the lever back towards her unhinging the crane. The load once held suspended came down at a furious pace. The Camaro leapt clear at the last possibly second leaving the once-cruiser to be flattened under the substantial weight of the load.

She was beyond dismayed when she realized that she hadn't thought her plan through.

Apparently old building, plus twenty-some feet in diameter holes everywhere, plus substantial tremors, equals collapse.

The other loads toppled downward onto the ground sending even more unwanted tremors throughout the place. Sam watched with poorly masked horror as the walls began to cave in from the sheer force of the impacts and the weight it had had trouble holding aloft for years. Both she and Mike screamed as the wall nearest them came tumbling down towards them.

They yells were abruptly cut off as they were both snatched off of the ground by yellow, metallic fingers. The Camaro ran for one of the blast holes the duo had made in their fight. He huddled them close to his chest as he jumped through and cleared them safely.

Once outside the Camaro set them down before dropping to all fours and shifting back into the familiar form of her Camaro. Sam's jaw went slack even as the building behind them continued to cave in on itself. It wasn't until the driver's side and passenger door opened than she snapped her jaw shut.

"You're not frickin' serious, are you?" Mike rasped from beside her, his eyes narrowed at the passenger door. Sam was about to agree with him when she heard the echo of a robotic roar from within the collapsing structure. Their eyes sought each other's out before they both nodded firmly.

"I'm up for a drive." She joked half-heartedly.

"Oh, yeah, just what I wanted to do today." He retorted.

On that note they both dove into the Camaro with poorly restrained fright. The doors snapped shut and locked behind them as it sped off on its own. Sam was left staring at the self-moving parts of the car.

They were silent for several long minutes trying to regain some semblance of control. Sam let her heart at least get back to a normal pace and waited for the adrenalin kick to die some before speaking, a slight tilt to her lips. She and Mike stared at each other. Her words came out sarcastic and snarky rather than joking, a deliberate attempt to divert their attention away from the here and now.

"So, how'd you come up with 'laser lips', oh great one?" She inquired.

After a pregnant, uneasy minute Michael laughed. Sam soon followed.

The only unfortunate fact to this was that she was unsure as to if they were truly finding humor in the situation or if they had completely gone mad.

All things considered, Samantha doubted that anyone would deny them the fact that sanity wasn't exactly playing a big part in this situation and never would.

No, this was a game of how long you could go on surviving.

* * *

**Notes:** The next chapter I will introduce Sam and Mike to the Autobots. I hope y'all like this chapter. I would really like more reviews as well. Until I hit twenty-five (25) reviews I will not post the next chapter. This is one of my favorite chapters because it was the scene where the action finally started. Feel free to make any comments. Criticism welcomed.

I would also like to add that Glenn Masterson is NOT the Glen from the movie. The Glenn in my story is completely different and plays an important part in my 'between' story for the first movie/story to the second movie/story. He won't really make another appearence in this story, though our favorite techno-geek Glen will come along later in this particular story.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Transformers.


	5. Chapter 5: This Is How We Roll

**Chapter Five: This Is How We Roll**

Samantha stared blankly out the front window of her self-driving Camaro. Several times she had developed a nervous tick in her left eye only to have to resort to closed-eyed, deep breathing exercises. Beside her in the passenger seat Mike seemed to still be in shock. Sure he'd openly insulted the Grim Reaper of robots by calling his mother, if it even had one, a snow blower, but that as in the heat of the moment. Now that everything had dissolved back to normal, well as normal as a self-sufficient, self-aware vehicle driving you around could be normal, he had fallen into a kind of hermit state.

The Camaro played upbeat tunes throughout their entire ride into the middle of nowhere, well past the town limits towards the neighboring city. Sam had no idea where the vehicle was taking them. All she knew was that the door locks remained firmly stuck down into the dash and that she wished that she was crazy enough to enjoy the ride.

She was kicking herself internally for her blatant stupidity. Demonic possession of her car would have been too merciful a sentence. Oh no, the damned thing had to be a robot killing machine with an often times adorable habit of playing song clips to appropriate a situation. No car worth four thousand dollars was worth the headache she had now, not entirely due to the gash in the back of her skull that she'd ripped a part of her shirt off to staunch the blood flow.

What was more was that their backpacks had been mutilated in the shift of metallic parts. Both Sam and Mike had looked at the shredded material of their brutalized bags and cringed.

"So," Sam began, running her fingers through her slightly blood dried hair. Mike's gaze drifted to her, the color glazed with surprise. She gave him a faint smile. "Laser lips? Where'd you pick that one up, Sparky?"

"Sparky?" Mike's mirthless chuckle made Sam cringe. His next words were roared out while his eyes widened in disbelief. "What the hell is wrong with you? We are riding in a freaking transforming Camaro that just got done with the ultimate version of Robo-Wars, being taken to some place we have no clue about, and all you can do is come up with a half-assed remark? Dear Lord, no wonder you're single. Who the hell would be crazy enough to put up with your bull?"

That did it. Sam's tiny grasp on control shattered. Michael Banes hadn't been the one flattened into a car with the deadly robot steaming above him and thoroughly shitting himself from the terror of running for his life as the same metal monster chased him down. Oh no, big boy didn't have any right to say anything about this when she was right there with him and experience so much more. After all, it wasn't like the monster knew what _his_ name was!

Sam whirled in her seat completely ignoring the seatbelt that had tightened about her chest as if to keep her pinned. She grabbed two fist-fulls of the jock's shirt and pulled him face to face with her. She took great pleasure in the look of surprise and slight fear on his handsome face.

"Listen here you little turd! I bought a car that turned out to be a giant metal being with a penitent for finding trouble including the nasty cop car that tried to flatten me like a pancake over the hood of a scrapped car in an abandoned warehouse, been kidnapped and teased by said car mercilessly since I bought it, and now been forced into a situation which even in movies the directors would say that it was just too fucked up to chance with an audience! You're not the only one facing the impossible, Michael! I get sarcastic and joke around because if I have to sit here in tense silence for another damned minute I'll lose my cotton-picking mind! I refuse to cry over this. I'm bleeding you inconsiderate jackass and I'm also aching in places I never have before because of my sudden backwards catapult. If I'm not willing to put up with my own misery and oncoming insanity you can sure as hell believe that I won't put up with yours.

"Now grow a pair, get your head out of your ass, and bounce back before you get run over!" With that Sam pushed the jock away from her with as much force as she could and sunk down into the comfort of the robot's conforming leather seats.

Silence reined for a long few minutes as Mike stared at her with open-mouthed shock. Sam refused to look at him. She couldn't help it. She was seething. The little prick had the nerve to insult her, to degrade her when she had gone through worse than he. He had absolutely no right to try and make her feel more uncomfortable than she already was. If sarcasm and joking helped, why not let her indulge herself?

After what seemed like hours Mike sighed. "I'm sorry, Sam."

Still she wouldn't look at him.

"I get it, okay? Everyone handles things in their own way. Some people brood, like me, and I guess that other people try to make light of the situation like you. I should just be happy that you haven't dissolved into a fit of tears on me." He laughed a little. It was a nervous, humorless thing designed to get the stiffness out of her back. "I never was a guy that could handle a Crying Jay."

Samantha kept quiet, trying to rein in her temper. She hated it when she let it snap and fly off the handle. It's why she joked. Once she started snapping she turned into a vindictive witch and had a nearly impossible time of coming back down from the 'pissy-high' quickly. No, she ended up brooding.

Mike grunted beside her, most likely giving up in the effort of getting her to forgive him. His eyes strayed to the radio where the blue numbers of the clock glowed. He grimaced as his stomach tossed loudly.

"I know that this is bad timing and all, what with getting kidnapped by your car, but I'm starving." As if to reaffirm his words, his stomach roared like a waking bear in the spring. Sam tried to fight it, but a smirk rose on her lips.

"I can't exactly say that I'm hungry," she intoned while staring at the radio, "but I have to use the little girl's room worse than anything. That whole encounter with the deranged robot cop-car had me nearly pissing myself and I still need to go."

The Camaro's only response was to keep going. Sam was halfway tempted to hit the steering wheel in frustration. She'd squat down at the side of the road like a little girl once more she had to pee so badly. She refused to go in her shorts. Her urge to pummel her car was only overridden by the fact that in actuality her car was a super advanced robot that just recently got done beating the snot out of another equally advanced robot disguised as a police cruiser.

"All right, what are we doing?" She demanded after a long minute, tapping the radio with a manicured forefinger in agitation. "I don't like being kept in the dark and here you are taking us only God knows where without offering us a pit-stop. So start yapping."

The radio switched, something she had become familiar with even before the big reveal of her Camaro. The words that echoed out of the speakers caused her brows to furrow as she turned to scowl at Michael.

_The hootin' and the hollerin'_

_Back and forth with the arguin'_

_Where you from? Who you know?_

_What you make? And what kind of car you in?_

"What are you gibbering about?" Mike queried, his own brows drawn down tightly. Sam sat back into her seat to decipher the tune.

"Are you talking about fighting?" She wondered aloud. She tapped her finger against her lower lip in concentration. "What, are you bringing us into a fight or something? With others like you? More cars that change into robots like you?"

"_Thank you! Thank you! You're wonderful!_" The speakers rumbled with a deep, male voice from some stage actor.

"Can you talk? Or are you just getting your jollies off of playing a more modern form of 'riddle-me-this' with your radio?" Mike demanded hotly. Sam sent a glare his way, but he only huffed in annoyance.

"XM satellite radio, a hundred and thirty digital channels of nonstop, commercial-free music, news, and entertainment!" The radio chorused in a cheerful banter. Sam chuckled a little at that.

"Sweet. I mean I knew I got awesome reception for this car, but I didn't know I got XM radio. I guess it makes sense, though, on how he's been able to access so many different songs for as old as the radio is." She scratched the back of her neck with indecision. "Even so asking questions is going to be difficult. I know our music is expansive, but surely he can't explain everything through the radio."

Mike nodded a few times as he too digested that new information. They could always ask yes or no questions, she knew, but they also needed explanations on some things, if they could get those answers that is.

"Where are we going?" Sam asked as she ran her hand through her hair.

A familiar ad blared over the speakers. Sam was confused, but Mike's eyes widened with understanding. "The Ghost Walk? That's in Carson City."

"Why are we going to Carson City? There can't be a fight there! Do you have any idea of how many people are there?" She was panicking now, but she wasn't sure if it was for her robotic car or for the innocent people in the city. Seeing what he could do to the cop car she could only imagine what he could do to people her size. They'd all be reverted to proverbial bug splatter.

_No time to be lazy_

_The journey is perfect_

_The pace is so crazy_

_The race is so worth it_

_I will be with you_

_We'll do this together_

_Always together_

"Dude, this is such a bad time to play an Aly and AJ song." Mike grumbled into his hand.

"This sucks." Samantha began to methodically hit her head to the back of her seat with her eyes closed. "I'm starting to believe in that saying 'be careful what you wish for'."

"What do you mean?" Mike's tone was half-way curious, and half-way exasperated. Sam knew the feeling.

"I specifically wished for an adventure outside of this bore hole. Looks like I got it. Next time I'm just going to shove my foot in my mouth and be done with it." She narrowed her eyes on Mike when he broke into tight laughter. "What are you laughing about?"

"You! You bought a piece of crap Camaro. Only a total nut would have even thought of this. I mean, you'd expect a kick-ass car like a Ferrari or Lamborghini, maybe, but not this junker."

Very suddenly the tires squealed as the car slammed on the brakes. Had they not had their seatbelts on both of them would have slammed their foreheads into the dash or wheel. As it was the belts constricted tightly as if to counteract the sudden thrust forward. Horns honked agitatedly behind them from underneath the bridge they were passing under. Some time ago they had reached a more populated area, Sam presumed leading closer into the city.

As soon as the driver's and passenger's doors swung open their restraints snapped out of their buckles. The seats inclined off to the sides indicating that if they didn't get out they would be dumped out. Sam scrambled away, not entirely willing to piss off the giant robot. Mike seemed to have the same feelings as he was almost instantly beside her at the center column of the bridge.

"This is all just a bad dream." Samantha snarled as the doors to her Camaro shut firmly and squealed off. She sent Mike a sidelong glare. "I should just push you out into traffic right now." With that she started walking in the direction they had been heading before they were so rudely kicked out of her car.

"Hey! Where are you going?" Mike boomed from several feet behind her.

"Where does it look like I'm going?" She waved her hands agitatedly over her head. "The last exit to a town we passed was near twelve miles back. I have no cell phone seeing as it was in my bag when that thing transformed on us and I have no money besides the change in my pockets. The second I find an emergency call box I'm calling home, try to explain to my father why my car is now missing, and then drown myself in a mundane life."

"Sam! Just wait up!" Mike bounded up behind, his hand latching onto her elbow to whirl her around. She just about snarled at him when she spun to face him. It was just then that she really took in his disheveled appearance. She thought that she looked a bit worse, but all the road burn and ripped, dirtied clothing did make him look battle worn. She almost snorted at the thought. Who would have thought that the jock and the sociopath 'it' girl would end up where they were now.

"Look, we need to talk about this. It sucks, you're right about that, but we need to stick together. I mean, how many people are going to believe this?"

_Nobody_. She announced in her mind automatically. Outwardly she sighed, her shoulders sagging. "I know. Come on. We'll figure out a story while we try and find a call box."

They walked together only a few more feet, but the sound of a powerful engine revving kept them from speaking. Sam whirled, her hands raised as if to block the oncoming vehicle. Her mind flashed images of the cop car, but what she saw made her jaw go slack.

"No flippin' way!" She all but whispered as a brand new, vibrant yellow Camaro GTO rolled up beside where she and Mike had stopped. The driver's side door opened easily revealing the empty seat. Even without the clue of 'no driver' Sam would have been able to guess this car was indeed her Bumblebee despite the fact that only minutes ago having been an old, rusted junker.

"Woah." Sam revolved her head to look at Mike. His thin lips were pulled back into a wide smile. "I think we're still going to have to figure out a story as to why you suddenly have a brand new car instead of your old piece of crap."

Samantha own smile spread as she brought her awed gaze back to her baby. "So, are we in?" She asked of her apparent partner-in-crime. The Camaro was the one to answer.

_So if you feel it, let me know, know, know_

_Come on now, what you waiting for, for, for?_

_My engine's ready to explode, explode, explode_

_So start me up and watch me go, go, go, go_

With loud laughter they both hopped into the tricked out Camaro. Sam fondled the steering wheel, reveling in the shudder that ran through seats at her touch. The corner of her mouth lifted into a smirk as she patted the symbol in the wheel.

"Well, you've got us now. Gun it!"

The sound of squealing tires and screams of adrenalin could be heard for over a quarter of a mile as Bumblebee floored the accelerator and made his way towards Carson City.

* * *

Samantha kicked her feet through the air aimlessly watching the horizon as if hoping for the Sun to rise from it once more. It had become dark some time ago. They'd come into the city more than three hours before. The Camaro had driven them into an old, decayed, no longer used cemetery and had remained parked ever since. He played tunes in between sporadic bursts of questionnaires. Sam had only blushed slightly when she'd retreated behind some local shrubbery to empty her bladder. She was overjoyed that Michael had only snickered a little at her embarrassment over such a natural process.

"Why did it have to be a cemetery?" Mike griped for at least the fiftieth time since they'd arrived. Had they been here under any other circumstances Sam might have laughed at the jock. Apparently the play boy had a bit of a phobia of cemeteries. He'd been sticking to her like glue unconsciously since they'd arrived. It was quite humorous for the guy, being so much bigger than she and being in the presence of a transforming robot, to be terrified of graveyards.

"Would you stop blatting already?" She moaned into her fisted hands from where she sat atop an old tombstone. "You threw battery packs at a killing machine threatening my life. Those balls I told you to grow earlier…well I think you better start getting on that because I have a feeling that things are just going to get worse from here."

"So says the girl that had a mental breakdown when she realized that I'd been touching her for the last seven hours without her freaking out." Mike scoffed as he sat almost windedly beneath her now motionless feet. Sam kicked his shoulder.

"It was _not_ a mental breakdown!" She whined indignantly. "If it was I would have either shut down or screamed in your face."

"Of course. Then what does fainting dead off make it? Hero worship?"

Samantha flushed scarlet as she recalled that moment of time. They'd been in the cemetery for only a few minutes when she'd tripped over an old base for some lost tombstone. Mike had caught her before she could make contact with the ground. In truth she'd just stood there baffled for an instant wondering when she'd gotten used to his touch before the day she'd had overwhelmed her and her body chose that moment to tune itself out for a few minutes. She'd woken up in the back of the Camaro with a soft flute playing over the speakers.

"You, Michael Banes, are an ass."

"And you, Miss Witwicky, are psychotic."

"Go ahead. Push my buttons and see how much farther you get." She dared him with narrowed eyes. The headlights from the Camaro shone on them along with the full moon providing ample light to read facial expressions. The look Mike returned to her was comical, if not rude in nature.

"Is this that sarcastic side of you coming out again, because I'm seriously getting tired of her."

"Learn to live with her, Mikey-boy, because I refuse to run around here like a chicken with its head lopped off." She harrumphed, crossed her arms, and stared back out onto the horizon.

They stayed silent, the music acting as a backdrop in accompaniment with the chirping cadydids. Sam's eyes darted over the now blanketed, starry skies in search of more massive meteors that had fallen only thirty minutes or so earlier. She and Mike had watched in wide-eyed wonder at the spectacle. They were far enough out of the city that they had an undisturbed view of the four-piece shower. Sam had seen showers before, but this one was like watching some ancient battle where flaming boulders were launched from catapults at unsuspecting castles. In this case the castle had been the city. The meteors had made dramatic landfall within the city far below them.

So far no more had rained down.

The sound of a deep, growling engine had Sam rotating on her tombstone. Mike peaked out from the other side of it only to gape at the incoming vehicle. Out from behind a crop of trees came a massive eighteen wheeler. The light provided by the Camaro made the deep navy blue base of the Peterbilt stand out from the blood red ghost flames along the chassis. The semi rolled up to within a few feet of where she and Mike were sitting. Sam had a moment to marvel at how much taller even the grille was than they were before the semi began to transform.

"There really are more of them." Mike hissed out as he came to stand beside where she sat. She couldn't bring herself to make her legs work and hold her.

More engines revved from the other direction. Sam was barely able to drag her eyes from the behemoth before her to look to where her Camaro sat. She half expected the newcomer to hide or at least change back to its vehicle form. She did not expect her Camaro to shift to its bipedal form as well, nor for them to allow the presence of three other vehicles. One was an emergency vehicle Hummer, another a pimped GMC truck, a Topkick if she knew her trucks, and a glimmering silver Pontiac Solstice.

"Dear Heaven, they're all car enthusiasts." The words were breathed out in a near silent rush as she monitored the vehicles' movements. They sidled up next to her Camaro only to do the now-you-see-it, now-you-don't switch-a-roo. She could almost see herself through their eyes as they towered over her, her jaw hanging on the ground and her eyes as big as saucers.

Mike smacked her arm to make her turn her attention back to the once-upon-a-time semi. She glowered at him for an instant before looking high up into the semi's blue-eyes face.

Despite everything she wasn't frightened, not really. No, the false police car had terrified her. The being before her was simply another robot like the one that had saved her and Michael's asses and was currently flanking her on her immediate left. The rest of them had them surrounded as if afraid that they would bolt at the first opportunity. It wasn't as if they couldn't catch them if they did run. The robots had dozens of feet on them.

She had little doubt that her jaw was once again slack as the once Peterbuilt crouched down before her so that its face was less than a foot away from her.

"Are you Samantha Jane Witwicky, descendent of Captain Archibald Witwicky?" The deep, rumbling baritone of the robot shook her to her very core. Her only intelligent response was to nod with a slight squeak of her seemingly ever-present freak-outs. "Do not fear us. Freedom is the right of all sentient beings. We have not come here to harm you."

"Well," Sam began intelligently, her head turning to face her human companion with wide eyes. They locked stares for an instant before she turned by to the Hulk of robots. "That's a great policy. You should stick to it." She might have chuckled at her own wit if it weren't for the oddity of the situation. Either way she received a swift elbow to her ribs for jeering a monolith of epic proportions.

"I am Optimus Prime." The robot proclaimed in a cleverly muted voice, one designed more for reassurance and comfort, not one to scare others off. Sam likened herself to a startled deer in the middle of the woods after hearing a twig snap and ready to bound away with her tail erect at any continued threat of danger.

"It's a pleasure to meet you." She inclined her head, ever the polite girl. Giant talking robot or not, she hadn't been raised to be rude. Then again she was probably still in shock. "So, you know English?" It was a severely stupid question, yes, but she just wanted to keep the conversation rolling on something that wasn't going to pop a brain vessel. It was a very real possibility at this point in her own mind.

Besides, Mike seemed to be in a temporary coma.

"Yes. We assimilated all of Earth's languages through the World Wide Web as you call it. The information was extensive, but not demanding in conceptualization." Sam made a mental note that these robots were obviously more intelligent than humans and either did not know that it was rude to rub that fact into said humans' faces or were smart-asses. She really hoped that it was the first option because she really didn't want to have to start cussing forty-some foot titans on their poor manners. Most likely it would just get her stepped on.

"I take it that you are not biological in nature." She inserted even though she was almost certain that they were strictly machines…free-thinking machines, but machines nonetheless.

"You are correct. We are autonomous robotic organisms from a very distant world – the most suitable translation for you would be Cybertron."

So that was another thing about these robots. They weren't invented secretly by the government. Oh no, they were _literally_ aliens. They'd come from somewhere in the vastness of space to Earth in order to fight, if what her Camaro had conveyed earlier held any merit.

Optimus stood back up then, his mechanical joints whirling and clicking distinctively in the abandoned cemetery. A cold breeze blew through, ruffling Sam's torn shirt and sending her hair wafting before her. "Just as there is no proper translation for our home world there are none for our designations."

"Designations?" Sam questioned, leaning back to arch her head in a slightly less painful manner. She didn't particularly enjoy craning her neck so far back that she felt like she was looking at the top of the Empire State Building from no more than three feet from its base. "I think that the word you're looking for is _names_, Big Guy." She gave a shy smile to the titan before her known better as Optimus Prime. Mike elbowed her again and this time she turned on him with a scowl.

"Do that one more time you toad sucker and I'll personally see to it that the next time you go number two that your butt will have a new, permanent accessory." She hissed out. Mike's eyes widened marginally before narrowing.

"You wouldn't." His nose scrunched cutely even as his lip curled in a feral snarl.

"Try me." She dared in a dark tone, a smirk playing across her face. After a long minute stare-down the boy huffed and turned away conceding defeat. Sam fought the childish urge to do a little happy dance.

"Okay." Sam started off cheerily, turning back to the alien robots staring down at them. She figured that if she'd lost her mind she might as well go along with playing the game. "What are y'all's names? I mean, we aren't going to go around calling you all Thing One and Thing Two." Mike snorted beside her with refrained laughter. She kept her smile on her face as she looked hopefully up at Optimus Prime, the one she assumed was the leader of the troop.

"My first lieutenant: _Jazz_." His arm waved to his left side, their right, to the smallest of the robots. He was the one that had once been the sleek Pontiac Solstice. Sam couldn't help but think simply by looking at him that he was a cool dude. Then again, what did she really know about giant _alien_ robots.

"What's crackin' little bitches?" A somewhat gansterish voice echoed out through the high-powered speakers of the silver bot as he performed a neat back-flip hand-twist. His larger frame fell back in a laid back gesture against an old, yet firmly cemented tree that wasn't completely dwarfed by his sheer size. Sam frowned at the silver bot.

"Just a word of forewarning; try not to use any word like 'bitches' or any other derogative term around humans. Though you can find them in modern culture and spoken often it is incredibly rude and people _can_ and _do_ take offense to the use of them."

"Thanks for the update, little lady." Sam's smile was wide and bright at the more appropriate nickname.

"You're quite welcome. I mean, I don't think that you'd like to get keyed after accidently insulting some unsuspecting human. Personally I'd hate to see that nice paint-job ruined." Just before turning back to Optimus for the next introduction she could have sworn that she felt a tingle at the back of her senses that reminded her of pride. In fact, it was like a sudden swell of enthusiasm mixed with smug arrogance, only on a far smaller scale. She shook it off as her insanity shattering before looking up to Optimus.

"Our weapons' specialist: _Ironhide_." Sam rotated her head behind her to face the black giant with a face that resembled something like a pit bull in her mind. Very suddenly she found cannons appearing out of nowhere on the giant's forearms, a faint blue glow and whirling clicks emanated from the intimidating things.

"You feelin' lucky?" He intoned in a rumbling deep voice that sounded like an old man in a way. Despite herself Sam found herself grinning from ear to ear. Her grandfather, on her mother's side, had been very similar to this robot. He was a tad bit eccentric, always looking for the opportunity to show off his prized collection of fishing rods. Essentially he was harmless. No matter how gruff Ironhide appeared, she had to think that for the most part that he was harmless.

She hoped.

"Easy Ironhide."

"What?" Ironhide questioned with false guilt, the cannons disappearing as quickly as they had come. She would have wagered just about anything that if his face could show emotion as a human's face could that he would be smirking. "I just wanted to show them my cannons."

"Our Chief Medical Officer: _Ratchet_." Optimus continued, obviously dismissing his friend.

Sam felt a tingling sensation not too dissimilar to her foot falling asleep running up and down her spine as the once-Hummer stared at them with glowing blue eyes. She saw Mike shiver unconsciously and guessed that he had felt it too. She hazarded a guess that the one known as Ratchet was the perpetrator for their slight discomfort.

"Hey, what's the big idea?" Mike hollered as he rubbed his arms with his meaty hands. The scowl marked ugly on his normally handsome face. He was one of those people that anything but indifference or a smile on his lips would make him look almost unattractive.

_Almost_ being the operative word.

"According to your species' customary standard you and your companion are both in an excellent state of health, though Samantha has an abnormally fast heart rate and a medium sized lesion on the back of her skull." He remarked in a heavy voice, one that might belong to a gruff soldier man.

"Please, just call me Sam and my heart rate has always been that way. It's not like coming into contact with you all is helping me any in that department." Sam grumbled as she rubbed the back of her neck with her right hand to bring the chills down to a more comfortable level. "I do ask that next time you do whatever you just did, a kind of body scan if I'm any good at guessing, that you ask permission. It's offsetting to say the least."

"Of course."

"Thank you." She gave him a shaky smile as she continued to rub at her skin. The Goosebumps were going to be a nightmare to get rid of, she was sure of it.

"You already know your Guardian: _Bumblebee_." Optimus motioned for the yellow bot that had saved them from robo-cop on crack. Samantha's smile was a mile wide when she registered the name in her mind, mentally patting herself on the back for her instinctual superiority. Right then she didn't really care that it was technically inconceivable that she could 'know' the once-Camaro's name before she had even heard it despite the many clues.

"_Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee_." Sam chuckled, her own mind kicking into gear on a different phrase.

"How about 'float like a Cadillac, sting like a Beamer'? It seems to fit this situation well enough." Bumblebee nodded his head frantically, a series of chirps coming from his speakers. She maneuvered her head to look back towards their 'doctor', maybe mechanic would be a better term, with a questioning look in her eyes. "He can't talk like you all can, can he?"

"No." The doctor remarked as a red laser-like thing projected from his outstretched finger towards some neck pipelines in Bumblebee's neck. The smaller robot coughed, though it seemed to be more for dramatic affect than anything. She realized quickly that he was playing it up. "His vocal processors were damaged in battle on Tyger Pax. There are programming complexities which would be difficult for you to understand that I have been unable to repair."

"Oh." Was her genius response. She wanted to call the medic out on the intelligence jibe, but she really didn't doubt that she knew very little of their inner programming. She she could fix a car, to a certain extent, but hardwiring a computer, an extremely advanced and sentient computer, was another story.

Sam kneaded her palm into the front of her skull as if hoping that doing so would aid all the information into sinking into her brain. Mike, however, seemed to have come out of his stupor and was raring to go for more answers.

"Why are you here?" He questioned, his eyes darting to Bumblebee. "He told us, we think, that you were here to fight. Why here? Why Earth?"

"We are here looking for the Allspark. It is an ancient entity that imbues all Cybertronians with a 'spark', essentially our life source. It is unimaginable powerful and the significance of it is far too complex to even ascertain." Optimus explained in his deep-throated bass tone.

Sam's eyes were riveted onto the being before her, trying to wrap her head around the idea that these titans, these God-like beings, were in search of something even grander than they. Out of the corner of her eye she could see that Mike's jaw had gone limp with the same realization as she had come to.

They were essentially nothing compared to these beings.

"We must find the Allspark before Megatron." Optimus continued, his tone almost solemn.

"Who – or what – is Megatron?" She wondered aloud, her heart suddenly stuttering at the name. For some reason she got a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach that whatever she was about to hear she wouldn't like.

"We were once brothers, at least in the way you understand the term. Megatron desired power. He was ambitious and greedy; he let his dark desires take control of him. He dominated those that were weaker than him, brought them under his control, and sought war upon those that he could not control. For his choices and all the wrong deeds he has done he was forever labeled a Decepticon along with all of his followers."

Sam visibly startled when a three-dimensional image surrounded them. Her heart continued to beat faster and faster until she could all but feel the pulse of it in her mouth. She and Michael stood amongst a war-torn world of metal giants. Infernos raged throughout ravaged metallic cities, smoke billowed through the blackened air. Body parts of fallen mechanical giants lay around them like a deck of fallen cards. Though they were not organic, were not human, Samantha's gut still churned at the sight of such carnage. This was sadism at its peak.

Tears stung her eyes when the image shifted to reveal a plane unlike anything she had ever seen before. It landed no more than twenty paces before them, shifting into a silver titan with glowing crimson eyes. It stomped forward to a downed robot, a definite strut to it that screamed arrogance and self-gratitude. The silver giant planted his great foot firmly into the other robot's broken stomach, thrust his clawed hand forward into the other's exposed chest, and tore from it a flickering blue orb. Sam's hands closed reflexively over her mouth as the lights dimmed in the other robot's eyes as the orb was crushed in the silver one's claws. She felt sicker than she ever had in her life, just knowing that what this monster had done was equivalent to tearing the other's heart out of his chest while he was still alive.

"Oh God. Make it stop!" Sam pleaded, her eyes overflowing with tears as she continued to look onto the grotesque sigh before her. She help her breath as the image surrounding her disappeared, but not before the silver robot bellowed out in victory, its red eyes narrowing onto her.

"For eons the battle raged between our factions." Optimus spoke with obvious remorse. In the very back of her mind she couldn't help but note that there was no misinterpreting the fact that these weren't just machines with brains. They had feelings and souls just like any human being. "It became apparent far too late that the only way to end the fighting would be to flee. The Allspark was launched into space by radicals of our race in order to preserve what little was left of our kind.

"Megatron, however, left in search of the Allspark. He desired its power and meant to have it under any circumstances. Both factions have been searching for eons during our continued battles for the Allspark. After so long we have finally traced it to here in Earth. It was unfortunate for us, though, that Megatron discovered its location first. He, however, did not anticipate the geological marvels of your planet when he landed and befell the tortures of the ever-shifting ice."

"Holy shit!" Sam leapt off of the tombstone, her mind suddenly whirling. She paced nervously while steadfastly ignoring Mike. "You mean that crazy-talk my twice great grandfather was spewing out was in actuality _fact_? I mean, he wrote in all his journals about the 'ice man' he found and was drawing all these funky symbols, but no one believed him. I mean…holy shit!"

"Your ancestor came into contact with Megatron on an expedition in Antarctica. Captain Witwicky accidently activated Megatron's navigational systems. In addition to destroying your ancestor's sight, the coordinates of the Allspark were imprinted onto his glasses." Optimus finished as if she hadn't just exploded.

"Freeze." She ordered, not even caring if they understood her. "How did you know about the glasses?"

"eBay." Jazz admitted with poorly disguised amusement. Sam cursed colorfully.

"Damnit! I knew that the internet would get me killed one day." She complained more to herself than to those around her.

"The Allspark still resides on your planet, but we are no longer able to trace its coordinates." Ratchet stepped into the conversation, his face almost grim. "Its signal is somehow being blocked."

"Do I even want to know how that's possible?" Mike asked, though Sam guessed that he was doing that whole thinking-out-loud thing as well. He seemed genuinely surprised when Optimus answered him.

"We do not know, but we need to find it before Megatron or his ilk. If he finds the Allspark first, he will transform Earth's machines and create a new army. There will no longer be a need for this world to sustain carbonoids." There was no masking the severe tone, the belligerent solemnity that Optimus was conveying.

Samantha felt her heart nearly stop as his words registered in her addled brain.

"What do you mean?" Mike asked with a fearful voice. She guessed that he knew deep down what Optimus meant, but he wanted the words spoken out loud.

"The human race will be extinguished." Ironhide intoned in a sickeningly calm voice.

"Samantha Witwicky," Optimus began, all of them staring intently down at her, "you are the key to Earth's survival."

A pregnant silence ensued. It was only broken when Mike grabbed both of Sam's arms firmly in his big hands and narrowed his eyes down into her own.

"_Please_ tell me that you know where your mother stored those glasses."

* * *

**Note:** Howdy. I really hope y'all are liking my story so far. I just wanted to explain that the reason I had them meet in an abandoned cemetery (inspired not by the second movie, but by a different story I've read recently outside of the Transformers Universe) is that having them take on their bipedal forms in a city seemed completely belligerent. They are supposed to be incognito after all. Also, this chapter was very much alike to the actual movie/book because changing it around too much would have messed up my later chapters.

I would like to have forty-five (45) reviews before I continue posting fot this story. I don't think that this should be too much of a problem as I got many more reviews for the last chapter than I had anticipated. Please feel free to point out any problems that you see, make any suggestions, or just to simply state your opinion. Remember no vulgar language directed towards me or anyone else reviewing as it is disrespectful and I will remove the review if it is overly offensive.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Transformers.


	6. Chapter 6: The Problem With Agents

**Chapter Six: The Problem With Agents**

Tranquility had seen its fair share of big-rigs and varying degrees of tricked-out vehicles in its history due to the tourism the lake brought in, but Sam could almost guarantee that nobody had ever seen a contingent such as the one Bumblebee was leading back towards her home. It was well past midnight in her neighborhood so the sound of the rumbling engines shouldn't rouse many, if any, of her neighbors. A few stragglers of the evening, mostly the wayward children of the local parents, gawked at the sight of their little conga line of pimped cars. Sam couldn't help but wonder what their faces would morph into should they see the true nature of these vehicles.

"Dude," Mike breathed out heavily beside her as his fingers curled into the seats, "I think that they just cut the original driving time in half." His tone was a mix between childlike wonder and fright. Sam giggled a little.

"What did you expect? I can't exactly imagine super advanced alien robots many times older than our world driving like a grandmother after drinking a bit too much prune juice." Mike sneered at her.

"Oh, ha ha, very funny." He ran a hand through his thoroughly disheveled hair, an action that was becoming more and more frequent as their night went on. "So what's the plan?"

"I break into my own house." At his shocked look Sam continued. "I haven't called my father all day. I don't stay out late without calling for the specific reason that the last few times I ever did it I got a tongue lashing worse than Indiana's whip and was then grounded for two weeks. I don't think that these guys, or us for that matter, can wait until my punishment is up to get them the glasses. My father should be asleep so it should be eas –"

Samantha's words trailed off as Bumblebee rolled up into the driveway while the others took the back alleyway. She groaned out loud when she took in the still lit lights in the living room and kitchen as well as the blaring front porch light.

"You were saying." Mike inserted smartly. Had she been in any less stressful situation Sam would have slapped him over the head. Even _she_ knew that now wasn't the time for smart remarks and she was the queen of sass.

"Stay here." She ordered Mike as she opened the driver's side door.

"What are you doing?" Mike demanded as he leaned over the console. Sam gave him a half smile.

"I don't know. I'm kind of just winging it."

With that she bolted for the front window. She peaked up over the sill like some kind of thief preparing for a big heist, not too dissimilar from the present situation, and looked into the living room. She cursed a blue streak inwardly when she noticed that not only was her father sitting before the television with a glass of scotch but her mother as well. Apparently her mother had returned from visiting.

_Bad timing, Ma._ She chided in her mind.

"Samantha hasn't called all day." Her father complained as he twirled his glass between his fingers. She could see the mixture of anger, disappointment, and worry etched onto his face. "That girl is in a world of trouble when she comes home."

_Hence the fact that I'm hiding in the damned bushes._ Sam retorted on an inward sigh.

Judy Witwicky patter her husband's arm, a the slight smile on her lips belying the worry in her eyes. "I'm sure that she's fine, Dear." Some guy on the television began gesturing towards a burning crater, an enraged and startled look on his face. Her father flicked the channel only to find more of the same. "I'm sure that when we went out to dinner earlier that she called and left a message. The answering machine sometimes doesn't beep like it should, you know that. I'll go check."

Sam felt her heart stop beating for a second. The answering machine was upstairs in the hall just outside her bedroom. She needed to get inside without alerting either of her parents and her mother checking the machine was a surefire way of discovering her.

She took off in a running slouch for the back of the house, determined to not be seen through the windows. She stopped at the office window finding that it was opened fully, the screen having been missing for some time and her father too forgetful to remember to buy a replacement. A decorated vase she had made for her parents one Christmass sat just inside the sill. With a grumble she thrust her arm through the open window and knocked the vase roughly to the wooden floors beneath. The sound of shattering ceramic echoed throughout the too quiet house.

Sam ducked down low and close to the house hidden within the confines of the bushes as feet pounded for the door. Not half a minute later the door to the office creaked open and an audible sigh followed.

"Don't worry, Ron!" Her mother shouted out to the living room and her husband. "I think the wind just knocked Sammy's vase over. I'll clean it up." Judy's footsteps faded towards the kitchen and Sam followed the sound of them around the house. Another string of curses echoed in her mind as she saw that her father had taken up position by the laundry room door, which led out to the back door, thereby blocking both entry points for her.

"What's going on?" The whispered words made Sam slam her hands over her mouth to muffle her girlish shriek. Once she had narrowed her gaze onto Mike she slapped his shoulder, hard. "Ow. What did you do that for?"

"For scaring the bajesus out of me!" She hissed, her gaze flicking back over the sill to see her mother still rummaging through the supply closet in the kitchen for the broom. Judy was never very good at cleaning house. That was Sam's job.

"Trying to figure out how to get in. I need to get upstairs, but both doors are now blocked and I –" Sam became mute as an idea struck her. She quickly rounded and backed up to view the balcony outside her bedroom French doors. It was too high to jump and snag the bottom rail, but there were other ways, especially when she had brand new alien friends just out back.

She darted through the expansive backyard until she came to the two-door fence. The thing was constructed with the purpose in mind of allowing vehicles to enter from the back should the owner of the property decide to do so. Sam snapped the latch open and zoomed out into the alleyway. The nearest truck she caught sight of was Ironhide. With jittering legs she moved up before him and slapped the grille as if to get his attention.

"You, follow me. Hurry and be quiet." She ran back through the fence, the ebony Topkick following with a silenced engine. She led the brute to the balcony and had him maneuver himself just right enough that she could ascend without doing a face-plant.

"Sorry about this, big fella." She whispered to Ironhide. Putting one foot onto the front wheel, she lifted her other up onto the hood. From there she climbed over the windshield onto the roof of the car. Down on hands and knees she pleaded, "Move forward about four inches." The truck obliged. "Okay, good. Stop right there." Standing on the roof of the cab she could just reach the balcony of her room. Being at the backside of the house it wasn't likely that any neighbors would see her climbing up into her room this way nor allow her parents to see as Ironhide wasn't within immediate sight of a window.

Using all the strength she could muster, she pulled her elbows up onto the balcony. She swung her right leg furiously, trying to get it up onto the ledge. Below, she heard a faint whisper. "Be careful." The gruff words were not Mike, but the truck's. That brought a light smile to her lips despite the fact that she was hanging from the overly high balcony.

When her foot was finally up Sam reached her hand up the guardrails. Again pulling up, she flipped herself over the rail. Huffing and puffing for a minute, she regained her composure, somewhat.

Sam shuffled around in her pocket and pulled out the key to her doors. Quickly and yet so very quietly, she opened the door. She peaked back behind her to see that Mike, too, had mounted the balcony. She scowled at him.

"You might need my help." He whispered.

"Whatever." She quietly snapped before ducking into her room.

At the sound of feet on the stairwell Sam's eyes widened dramatically. She grabbed Mike's wrist and dragged him down under her raised Queen sized bed. As soon as they'd shuffled under, Sam's face buried into her baby blue hoody, the footsteps ceased just outside her open bedroom door.

"No messages, Judy." He father called down the steps to her mother, who was probably only just beginning to clean up the floor in the office. Ron Witwicky sauntered into her bedroom only to begin grumbling. "Foolish girl. How many times do I have to tell her to shut her doors before she leaves? Any fool could come in here and rob us." Sam fought back a snort at that. Unless the robber had rappel cables there was no shot in hell that he could get up onto her balcony.

She and Mike remained silent under the skirted bed as her father shut and locked the balcony doors. They watched with bated breath as he strode out of the bedroom, shutting the door behind him. They remained hidden under the bed until his footsteps no longer echoed off the walls of the stairwell. Once he was gone Sam let out a relieved sigh.

"Okay, here's what we're going to do," Sam began as she shuffled out from under the bed. "There are three big glue boxes in my closet full of my dead grandpa's stuff. The glasses should be in a near black suede case about six inches long and three inches high. There's worn gold lettering on it with his name. If you find it just poke me."

On that note they opened her closet and pulled out the dusty boxes. Sam upended hers into the floor as silently as she could, Mike following her example, and began to slink through the antiques.

"Have you found them?" Sam stiffened, prepared to be face-to-face with her father despite the question, only to see Optimus Prime standing outside her balcony doors.

"What are you doing?" She whisper/yelled. She shuffled between the strewn antiques quickly and thrust open the doors to glare at the giant Autobot. "Would you be quiet? If my parents hear you we are so screwed right now."

"Screwed?" He inquired, his eyes glowing. After a second he responded to his own question. "I understand now. 'Screwed' is a slang phrase relating to the status of one about to be punished."

"Yes!" She hissed, her gaze flickering beyond Optimus to see the others transformed in her backyard as well. She clenched her jaw at their stupidity. "Dang it! Go hide! We're looking as fast as we can and if you get caught, we're _all_ screwed."

Optimus looked irritated, but turned his attention back to his comrades. "Autobots; fallback and cloak."

"Thank you." Sam huffed out, turning her own body to go back into her room. She was stopped halfway there, though, but the sudden tremor that wracked the house. With a squeak she stumbled forward until she was halfway draped over the side guardrail. She watched with wide eyes as the telephone pole separating hers and her neighbor's house came toppling down in a shower of sparks into the neighbor's backyard over top of a flattened Jazz. The pole hit the silver bot with a resounding 'thunk' even as the electrical current from the snapped wires coursed through his frame.

The high-pitched squeal that emitted from the Autobot's prone form caused Sam to cover her ears with her hands, but not before hearing her father hollering from downstairs about earthquakes and power outages.

"Hells Bells. It's like I'm babysitting only I'm not getting paid." She fumed more to herself than to the congregated robots. She waved her arms frantically to draw attention to herself. "Pick him up and get back into the alley! Somebody's going to come out to investigate and that is _so_ not good for us! Go!"

As Sam ran back into her room she could have sworn that she heard Jazz comment about the potential for energy overload.

"What the hell are they doing?" Mike demanded, still sifting through the antiques, now shadowed in darkness. With a flourish Sam pulled open her desk drawer and snatched up her flashlight. She shined it onto what Mike was looking through before answering.

"Acting like a bunch of toddlers on a sugar-high. I'm seriously questioning their intelligence and capabilities right now."

"Found it!" Michael cheered in barely contained mirth. Sam darted forward to look at the glasses case before looking over the lenses inside. Once she was sure that the thing was secure she dug under her bed, put on her blue hoody, and snuck the case into the front pocket. They were both heading out onto the balcony when they were forced to duck down low in order to evade Ron's wandering eyes.

"Oh man, look at the yard! It's destroyed." Sam just barely peeked over the edge and cringed to see the boxy footprints left in the once pure green grass left by the Autobots. The back gate was at least closed and the vehicles were no longer in sight. "Oh, Judy, your Azaleas. I'm sorry, Honey. You were going to enter those into the competition this summer at the fair, weren't you?"

Samantha had to bite her lip to keep silent. She was confused as to if she wanted to laugh or cry. Judy Witwicky had won so many awards for her prized Azaleas over the years that the darned things had become almost like another person to her mother. Forty-feet tall or not, Sam knew for a fact that if her mother ever figured out who annihilated her flowers she would dismantle them piece by agonizing piece.

"I need a stronger drink." Her mother croaked, the sorrow in her tone obvious.

Sam followed them with her eyes until they were into the house once more. After waiting what seemed to be an appropriate amount of time and coming to the conclusion that her parents wouldn't be coming back out she pushed herself over the railing.

"What are you doing?" The question fell from Mike's lips just as often as it had been falling from hers all evening.

"Getting down." Mike crooked a brow at her causing Sam to sigh. "Think with your other head for once, Mike. We can't go downstairs or else we'll be caught, which is why we entered the house this way in the first place. Now we have to get out this way as well. That means jumping."

"Jumping?" Mike mocked. "Are you kidding me? We'll break our legs!"

"No we won't." Sam insisted, shifting herself downward until she was hanging off the balcony by just her hands at the base. "Just don't keep your legs stiff when you land. Let them bend into the fall to cushion it. I've done this before."

"I'm not even going to ask." Mike mumbled before he too scaled over the rail and joined her at the ledge.

"Okay, we'll do this on three." Sam looked down and sent up a prayer that her luck would continue to hold. "One. Two." With an inward breath she called out, "Three!"

They both fell like stones to the ground below. Years of dance and being thrown around the studio with less than capable partners kicked in at once. As soon as Sam felt her toes connect with the ground she was crouching her body to ease the impact. The rest of her crumpled as it hit until she was rolling onto her back. She heard Mike yip beside her, but otherwise remain silent.

"Are you all right?" She demanded as she righted herself, checking her pocket to ensure that the glasses were still there.

"Yeah." Mike grunted, coming to stand on shaky feet. "I'm good. Let's just get out of here."

With a confirming nod they ran for the back alley. Sam stopped midway of pulling the unlatched gate open when she heard voices from the other side. Her brows furrowed as she listened. She could hear a ticker like those machines that detected radioactivity. She could also hear monotone voices discussing NBEs and contact.

"Mike, give me a boost." She whispered frantically before popping up to sit on Mike's shoulders. Her grunted once at the added weight before helping her to peak up over the high fence.

The first thing Sam noticed was that the Autobots were gone. There was literally no sign besides their earlier destruction that they had been there. All that was in place now was a series of three black GMC SUVs and a swarm of men in black business suits. She got a nasty feeling from these guys and she wasn't one to discount them. After all, the last time she'd felt off had been when she'd first seen the robo-cop.

Sam patted Mike's head to indicate that she wanted down. Once she was she looked at him seriously.

"I think we've got trouble. We need to be gone…like five minutes ago." She whispered before hurrying back towards the house. They had just made it to the right side of the house, the side without the open driveway and sheltered by shrubbery, when the back gate was thrust open and the suited men came flooding in like the Exodus.

"Crap. You weren't kidding." Mike glared from their hidden position in the bushes at the men.

"Of course I wasn't." She snapped back as she crawled through the brush to peak out to the front of the house. Sure enough there were more SUVs and guys in suits. Her head whipped back to where Mike was still crouching looking into the back yard. "Mike!" The hushed call got his attention. "Come up here. There are more of them."

By the time Mike had reached her, his body shadowing over hers, a few of the suited men had come up to the front door while others were taking what she guessed were samples from their lawn and driveway. The lead man, having slightly graying black hair and a partially Italian face, knocked on the front door before ringing the bell incessantly.

After a long minute the front door opened. "Who are you?" Sam's father's voice rang out through the night. Sam smirked. Her father really didn't like men in suits, especially late at night after having scotch. The last time someone that had looked like the bozo at the front door showed up under similar circumstances said bozo had found a door slammed in his face as well as red wine spilled on his tailored white suit.

At least these idiots weren't wearing white.

"Are you Ronald Wickity?" Bozo number one asked with a nonchalance that would make any businessman proud. Unfortunately Sam didn't think that these men did much business outside of undercover work.

"Who are you?" Her father demanded once more, his words as cold as ice.

"Name's Simmons. I'm with the government in Sector Seven." The agent informed her father.

"I've never heard of it."

"You still haven't." Both Sam and Mike looked at each other then, probably both wondering what brand of crack this guy was on. "Your daughter, Samantha Wickity, was involved in a pile up on the highway just outside of Carson City. We have reason to believe that she's involved with something pertaining to National Security."

"National Security?" Give her father credit, he didn't sound the least bit perturbed that his daughter had possibly gotten into a car accident. Perhaps she had inherited her little gift of ESP from her father. "I don't know what you're talking about, but whatever you are here for you can come back in the morning with a legitimate reason as well as a warrant and then we might talk. For now, good night Agent Simmons."

Simmons slammed his foot into the door jamb before the door could shut all the way.

"I am sorry Sir," Simmons started even though he didn't sound the least bit apologetic, "but as I said this is a matter of National Security. Either you can allow us access to your home or you will be taken into custody for hindering in an investigation."

"I'm sorry, but I didn't hear what part of the government you were from and therefore I have no reason to allow you into my home." With that Simmons, with the help of his other men, shoved the door all the way open. Sam made a move as if to help her parents, but Mike grabbed onto her shoulder to hold her back, his head shaking fervently.

"They're my parents!" She growled up to him.

"Yeah and we're trying to save the world here." Mike bit back sensibly. "We'll figure out how to help your parents once we get the Autobots those glasses."

Samantha was beginning to hate life.

"This sucks." She muttered under her breath. Mike nodded his head in an 'I agree' gesture.

Sam watched helplessly as the men flooded into her parents' home. Only a few words floated out from the open doorway by those closest to it. Some of it revolved around traces and radiation. She also heard the term 'they're clean' once.

"We're clear." Mike shook her shoulder and pointed towards the right side of the street. "If we're going to make a move we've got to do it now."

Sam gave one last look to her home before nodding her head.

Mike proceeded her from the bushes and out into the open. On a whoosh of air they broke off into a full-blown run. They hadn't even hit the edge of the fence separating her from her neighbors when someone called out from behind them and feet began pounding after them.

"Damnit!" Mike cursed as they ran faster.

"I'm so going to get you for this." Sam promised as she nearly passed Michael. Before she could reach the end of the street a large body tackled her to the ground. The left side of her face scraped into the asphalt agonizingly with the force of the fall, her legs being included in the skinning due to the weight upon her. She heard another man, maybe two, take down Michael not far ahead of her.

"Well look what we have here boys. The daughter has returned home." The man behind her had a distinctive sneer in his tone, one that made her want to reach back and pull his balls off. "You're in a heap of trouble, Missy."

She didn't speak. She knew better than to open her mouth, otherwise condemning her further. Mike, on the other hand, had no such reservations.

"Get off of us, you assholes!" He bellowed. Sam squinted into the asphalt trying to catch sight of Mike as metallic handcuffs were snapped around her wrists. "We didn't do anything!"

"You ran from us."

"You aren't cops. You're all just mall-cop wannabes." She fought back a snicker at that one as she was hauled roughly to her feet by the cuffs pinning her hands behind her back. She watched as two of the agents pulled Mike up off of his knees, his own hands cuffed, to stand. When he spoke next she really did snicker. "Didn't I see you get your ass kicked on _Cops_ last night?"

That remark got them both thrust forward towards the SUVs. Sam sent a look to a smirking Mike and smiled on her own.

"Hey, I thought you had to be in relatively good physical shape to be a cop." She looked back to the slightly pudgy man that had aided in tackling Mike to the ground. "That gut sure doesn't inspire much confidence."

That got her a snarl before her arm was almost dislodged from its socked as the man that had tackled her thrust her into one of the SUVs. Mike was pushed in through the other side. His smile was mocking.

"I guess these guys have no sense of humor." He remarked dryly.

"Guess not." Sam muttered as she sat back into the seat.

* * *

**Notes:** Here's the latest chapter. I thank everyone for the reviews. Please keep them coming. I won't put a goal on how many I want before I post the next chapter as the next is dire to this one, but I won't promise a time of when I will post it. It could be only a matter of a day or more, I'll have to see how busy I am. This chapter was somewhat rushed as I read it over and I may go back to polish it up a bit, but I hope that y'all still enjoy it.

The next chapter will involve some violent scenes, none overly graphic, and will play similarly to the movie as always, just switched up a bit to make my 'between' story more sensible as well as give a hint to the end of this story. The last couple chapters of this story is where you'll see the ultimate change-up that I've made to the movie and it will open the way to my other pieces.

As always, any criticism is welcome.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Transformers.


	7. Chapter 7: To Be Captured

**Chapter Seven: To Be Captured**

The SUVs accelerated through the town with no one but the two teens handcuffed in the back seats of the lead vehicle and the agents to notice. Mike was looking Sam's face over as best he could with his hands tied, literally. He didn't say anything, but Sam understood the dark look that passed in his eyes.

Mike was pissed off.

Sam's face stung badly as she listened to Agent Simmons try and get through to whoever was in charge of him. She'd watched helplessly from within the confines of the SUV as her parents were loaded into a separate SUV. They'd left in two different parties. Theirs currently included three SUVs, the two following behind them having three agents in each. The two in their car kept glaring at them either through the rearview mirror or glancing back at them over their seat like Simmons.

"I've got the girl…" Simmons tried speaking into his cell phone. His face continued to get more and more taut. "Hello? Can you hear me?"

"Can you hear me now?" Mike laughed.

"No, no, can you hear _me_ now?" Sam chortled back earning a glare from the agent.

"It's got to be bad reception." Simmons spoke to the other agent driving. "Call me back." He worded into the phone as if the person on the other side could actual hear him before snapping it shut. He then whirled to land narrow eyes on them both.

"So, LadyKnight127 – that is your username, correct?" His tone was just barely formal, edging more towards rude. Before the night was out she planned to get him well past rude and towering over steaming. This jerk-off was the reason her face probably looked like it got scraped by a cheese grater.

Felt like it, too.

"I don't know. What's yours? PeterBug4U? They always say that guys willing to intimidate a girl are lacking in that department." That got his face going red. She could all but feel the heat rolling off of him.

Simmons ignored her words, though, and turned to pull a portable DVD played up from the cubby in the passenger side door. When he flipped it open he engaged the video within. Though outwardly she and Mike remained stoic, the inner good-girl that she was ended up slapping her hands over her eyes and cringing.

On the small screen played their little incident out on the highway towards Carson City. She watched silently as Bumblebee skidded to a complete halt, opened his doors, and shook them out. There was no mistaking the doors shutting by themselves or the audible-free squealing of the tires as the beat-up old Camaro drove off. Minutes later a brand new Camaro came roaring through the same intersection as if the Hounds of Hell were chasing it. It was apparent that under the bridge some genius had connected a camera for surveillance.

Too bad they didn't see that before.

"Care to explain this?" Simmons queried as he snapped the screen shut and chucked the played back into the cubby up front.

"It's amazing what you can do with modern technology nowadays." Mike filled in cockily. His shoulders shrugged. "You can remote control just about everything if you just put your mind to it."

Simmons eyes grew cold. His lips drew down into a tight line. "Oh please, enlighten me with your genius. Don't leave anything out." The last few words were all but sneered out. Sam's eyes narrowed on the butthead. She had no doubt that within a few more spans of time the 'good cop' routine would drop and he'd be the true dickwad he really was.

Politeness was about to go 'bye-bye'.

"Eh, it's just a bunch of mumbo-jumbo to me." Sam conceded smoothly while wiggling her wrists discreetly behind her back. "Had some of my buddies tinker with it. They were trying out new pieces for their own cars. Since mine was a junker anyway I let them have their fun. Guess it worked."

Simmons gritted his teeth but pressed on. "What do you kids know about aliens?"

"Foreign immigrants?" Sam ticked an eyebrow up curiously. "You mean the illegal immigrants that y'all seem to have so much trouble keeping from crossing our borders? Yeah. Learned all about them in American History this year. I have to say, I'm embarrassed that…"

"Outer-space, kid." Simmons snapped. Samantha barely contained her smirk of delight. _One strong down, a few more to go._ She told herself with a mental pat to the back.

Both she and Mike's eyes widened with disbelief before they broke out into staged laughter.

"Excuse me?" Sam asked as tears fell from her eyes.

"You heard me. Don't play stupid. You're a smart girl, always on Honor Roll."

"Agent Simmons, I thought that you had some serious questions for me. There's people missing all over the world, men dying overseas, and you want to sit here and play games." Samantha sat straighter in her seat, trying to look indignant and furious. "Have you been drinking?"

"So, no aliens, huh?" Simmons persisted.

"You know," Mike jumped in with a disgusted look on his face, "I used to be all for the government and protecting America, but I'm having a bit of trouble finding faith in this nation with a man who believes in _aliens_."

Simmons's face was hot when he reached into his blazer to pull out a shiny badge with the words Sector Seven embossed into the silver metal. He waved it in their faces as if they were blind. "You see this badge? This is like a 'do-whatever-you-want-and-get-away-with-it' badge. I can lock you away. I can make it so that neither of you ever existed. I can do all sorts of things to you and nobody will ever know about it, but of course it'll be nothing compared to what I'll do to your parents."

She felt her jaw clench as a tic developed in her right eye. This guy was asking for it.

"Careful what you say, Simmons." Mike taunted, trying to diffuse the situation before she did something that Simmons was bound to regret because she certainly wasn't going to. "Anything you say can and will be misquoted, then used against you."

"And you," Simmons commenced with a glower of his own, "I wouldn't test me. Not tonight. Who really knows what was said in the privacy of a little interrogation room? Wouldn't want anything to slip and for the 'golden boy' to have to return to juvie." His glower turned to a smirk when Mike paled.

"Juvie?" Sam questioned with a whispered voice, her brows scrunching together to look at Mike.

"Yeah." Simmons jeered, his white teeth showing between his wide-spread thin lips. He was obviously smug with himself. "Your boyfriend here had a little mishap some years ago with a Miss Landers. He and his friends got drunk and had a go at her."

It was Sam's turn to change color. She felt all heat leave her as she stared on in horror at the boy that she'd come to like as a friend, allowed to touch her. His eyes were shamed, guilty, and pleading all at once as he faced her. She scooted slightly away, her hands suddenly doing double-time on the cuffs to get free. She'd jump out of the car if she had to.

"It's not what you think." Mike began, his tone soft. He was trying to comfort her, ease her fears. "There was a party two years ago. Me and some of the other guys got drunk. I passed out in front of the television, but woke up when I heard screaming. The guys were trying to get Hannah to spread her legs for them. I started a fight to get them to stop. I was put in juvie for assault, not rape. I swear to God and on my own life!"

"That's not what everyone said, kid." Simmons ribbed, his face a mask of self-appreciation. Whether Sam believed Mike or not, she really wanted to bash Simmons' face in. His big nose was already crooked, why not give him a reason behind it?

Simmons' eyes fell back onto Sam, his eyes getting a sick twinkle in them. "Besides, you might actually have company. After all, it's not the first time a Witwicky has been placed in a penitentiary. As it turns out, my own great-great-grand pappy threw yours into the asylum where he belonged. Who's to say that this generation isn't about to follow in their ancestor's footsteps."

Whatever Simmons was expecting, it wasn't the foot to the face. Sam took great delight in the crunch of his nose under her foot as well as the startled yelp of pain. When she pulled her foot back, Simmons was nursing his bloody nose. When the agent regained himself enough her glared back at the young, smiling teen and snarled.

"Why you little bit–"

His words were cut off sharply by the sudden impact of the car with a massive metal foot. Sam screamed as the car fishtailed, the rear of the car coming to a stop after smashing into a second foot. Light flood the car from above as two enormous hands gripped onto the roof of the SUV, the windows shattering. The driver tried to accelerate frantically, only to find the effort wasted as the SUV was hoisted off of the ground like a child's play-thing.

Sam's eyes widened considerable when she heard the distinct sound of metal ripping. Like a rollercoaster ride, the SUV lurched forward as the roof of the car was peeled back like the top of a sardine can. The car bounced in its shocks as it hit the ground, each and every one of them being jostled entirely by the impact as several glowing blue eyes stared down at them.

She screeched as she felt a lifting sensation. Eyes impossibly large, she stared on as the ground slowly disappeared beneath her. She twisted slightly from where she was clutched within a metal hand to come face to chest with Ironhide. His other hand had morphed into a cannon and was currently face the assembled group of agents. She was only partially aware of Mike sitting open-mouthed in the destroyed GMC as she worked her small wrists through the cuffs circling her hands.

"Ooh." Sam taunted as she brought her hands before her and began to rub the circulation back into them. "You guys are in so much tuh-ru-ble!" She cheered giddily, probably due in part to her adrenalin high.

Ironhide sent her a look when she patted his wrist and pointed down. For an instant she wasn't sure if he was going to let her down, but then he maneuvered her so that she was standing beside Mike's side of the car.

Optimus crouched down before the destroyed truck and gawking agents. At some point they had raised their empty hands in a gesture of surrender. Looking around Sam found the agents' guns in one four-fingered hand of Jazz. The smile she sent him was smug. She felt a tingle back, a familiar sense of pride that she'd gotten before when she'd complimented his paintjob.

"Well boys," Sam started as she helped Mike out of the SUV, "I'd like to introduce you to my new friend; Optimus Prime. Now remember, play nice or else I'll have to put you into time out." That earned her a round of glares.

"Your nervous system is not registering shock." Optimus observed as Sam dug around in agents' pockets for the keys to the handcuffs. Surprise, surprise, she found them in Simmons' back pocket. "Are you not surprised to see us?" Sam noticed the tic in Simmons' jaw indicating that he was about to try and weasel his way out of trouble much like a child getting caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"There are, uh, S-Seven protocols. I'm not authorized to communicate with you except to tell you that I can't communicate with you." Optimus did not look amused. Sam snapped Mike's cuffs off and smiled at the agent and his bloody nose.

"Simmons." Sam called with a grin tracing across her lips. The man looked at her with a scowl. "Get out of the car." He looked about to object when both Ratchet and Ironhide recharged their cannons. Samantha wouldn't have been disinclined to believe that one or two of the agents might have piddled in their pants.

She stood aside to allow the men out of the SUV before charging up to Simmons. "Keep your hands in the air." She ordered before searching through his blazer pockets. After a drawn out minute she pulled out the moron's cell phone along with his badge.

"Where did you take my parents?" She demanded as she flicked through the address book.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" He shot back in an immature fashion. She glared up at him through her lashes while still flicking through his contacts.

"Are we going to dissolve into name-calling, Agent Simmons?" She jeered, her smirk back on. "Really, I expected better from a government agent, even if your sector isn't supposed to exist. Tell me; since your sector doesn't exist does that mean that _you_ don't exist? Can I give you to my new friends as a show of comradery? Will anyone even miss you?"

She strode up to the agent until she was toe to toe with him, her eyes daring him to try anything. He had the nerve to look superior even when she could see the intimidated buffoon beneath the surface.

"Where are my parents, Agent Simmons?" Her voice came out dangerously calm, promising retribution should she not get the answer she desired. She watched the indecision play across the elder man's face before he finally clenched his jaw as if to stop the words from coming out.

"The Dam." The words were clipped, but they were enough.

"Good boy." She cooed to him with a smile on her pink lips. She waved the cell phone in his face before tossing it over her shoulder into the destroyed SUV. "You didn't lie to me. Next time I'd suggest that you don't put addresses into your contact files. Rookies." She mocked before taking the cuffs that he had had on Mike earlier and snapping them onto his wrist.

"What are you doing?" He asked with a frown.

"You're not in the position to be asking questions, Agent Simmons." She tugged onto the free side of the cuff directing him to a lamp pole. "Mike, get more cuffs. Get up beside the pole Simmons."

"Why?"

"Would you like my friends to do this for you, Simmons?" She queried, her eyebrow cocked. She watched his face go pale as he looked behind her to the towering Autobots. "I'm certain that they'd be happy to oblige."

With a few choice curse words the man obeyed her. One by one she got the agents to stand in an impromptu conga line, pantsed them, and cuffed them together to the pole. She faked a gag when she spotted Simmons' legs and rubbed her eyes.

"Oh, Simmons, I pity you. I suspect you haven't even seen a female before me in quite some time with those legs. Like an albino grub worm with Gorilla hair. Tell you what, you manage to get a date in the next month and I'll consider mailing you your badge back."

Mike had already gone through the rest of the agents' pockets and disposed of any cell phones. They both meandered back to the congregation of Autobots while Sam gingerly ran her fingers across her right cheek. When she pulled her hand back she found only dried blood. At least it had stopped bleeding. She could feel the remnants of it on her neck, though, beneath the hoody.

"Damn, Sam." Michael chuckled. "You're like the real-life Dominatrix all of a sudden. I like the change."

"Yeah, well, looks like life and death situations make you rethink your life." She glanced to the side to take in the jock's nicked chin. He too had apparently been face-planted into the ground. "You know, we could possibly be saving the entire world and when we end up going back to school next year nobody's going to know. You'll go back to being the play-boy jock and I'll be the paranoid ballerina that flinches around guys again."

"At least we'll know." Mike grinned slightly, his eyes crinkling at the sides.

Whatever she might have responded with was cut off the by the sudden _whup-whup_ of helicopters. She barely got the chance to squeak when she and Mike were hoisted up off of their feet and deposited onto a broad metal shoulder.

"Hold on."

As Optimus began to run, Sam caught sight of Ironhide bashing his fist into the ground behind them. A blue pulse rippled outward from it and in a flurry of sparks it rushed into the oncoming SUVs from the convey that had left them back at the house. Her jaw went slack when the tires burst on every single vehicle causing them to skid to a halt. Once sure that the agents were properly handicapped the other Autobots transformed back into their vehicle forms and sped out of sight in varying directions.

For being such a cumbersome being, Optimus proved surprisingly agile. He moved with as much precision as she when she danced, only his feet tended to leave craters behind. She and Mike held on for dear life as the Autobot leader led the agents within the helicopters on a merry chase throughout the town. Sam wasn't even entirely sure when he had managed to lose them, though she could still hear the blades rotating in the distance, until Optimus very suddenly reached up, braced himself on the struts under the Madison Bridge, and hid himself behind those same struts.

"Easy." Optimus cautioned before looking back down. Sam gripped with all of her might onto the exposed exhaust pipe jutting out from his shoulder while Mike hugged the raised antennae of Optimus's head.

Samantha waited with baited breath as the helicopters barreled through the underside of the bridge and over it. The suction from the blades at one point nearly caused her to lose her hold on Optimus, but she remained firm.

After what felt like hours, but must have been only minutes, the helicopters dispersed and moved their loops elsewhere. Sam and Mike looked to each other and beamed so widely that it was a surprise that their faces didn't crack.

It was the sound of a familiar powerful engine that drew Sam's attention downward once more. She felt her stomach rise in her throat when Bumblebee sped by under them, tailed swiftly by several of the black SUVs. It took all she had to contain her scream when the helicopters came back and ejected claws from harpoons mounted into the cabins of the copters straight at Bumblebee.

The high pitched squeals of alarm echoing from Bumblebee's speakers are what snapped what little control Sam had. She began to use Optimus like a gym-set to get to one of the support pillar not too far away.

"What the hell are you doing?" Mike griped, his free hand reaching out as if to snatch her arm and keep her from leaving him.

"I'm doing what's right." She snarled as she swung her body for the pillar, ignoring Optimus's orders to remain still where she was. With one final swing she thrust her body into the pillar and held onto it like a small child to its mother after a particularly frightening encounter with the neighbor's dog. Bumblebee's whirls, clicks, and screeches fueled her as she slid down the pillar like a fireman's pole.

"Sam! Come back! Don't do this!" Mike beseeched of her. Half-way down the pillar already, she smiled up to him and a bright-eyes Optimus.

"He saved my life, Mike. The least I can do is try and help him." She heard Mike grumble above as she continued her descent. Before she really knew what she was doing she was on the ground, pulling the glasses from her front pocket. She waved them up at Optimus before setting them at her feet. "Find the Allspark! Don't make me regret this!"

With that she ran full speed for the agents standing beside the SUVs, sick enjoyment on their faces as they watched Bumblebee struggle in his bipedal form against the steel cables ensnaring him as well as the liquid nitrogen, if she was to hazard a guess at the white mist being emitted from the blowers, being shot at him.

Sam didn't doubt that she was no match against the agents. There were too many of them. She also had no chance against the cables binding Bumblebee from the copters as she was only a grounded human, but she sure as snot could be a pain in the ass. If she was thinking correctly, and she had to believe that she was, the Sector Seven guys were bound to take her to the same place they were going to take Bumblebee. If they didn't…well, then she was about to do something very, very stupid for only self-satisfaction.

With a war cry she leapt onto the nearest agent's back before slamming his head into the driver's side door of one of the SUVs. She heard him grunt once before falling down to the ground. When she felt two hands lock onto her arms from behind she kicked backwards and straight into a groin.

Sam smirked. She had no doubt whatsoever that they were going to capture her, but she was going to get as much enjoyment and pain out of these guys as she could before she ended up back in cuffs.

Years of dance came in quite handy as she spun out of reach of various hands and whirled in to punch others in the face. She too got hit, though no one managed to make contact with her face yet. She was somewhat surprised to see at some point that Mike had joined in the fray. She only got about four more hits in after seeing him before she was reacquainted with the ground.

"You do know that what you just did is a federal offense?" The agent that had her pinned, his knee jammed into her back, growled from above her. She grinned up at him from the dry river bed.

"Really? Huh." She glanced over his form noticing the swelling of his eye. Inwardly she was cheering at herself. "I just thought we were playing cops and robbers. Tell you what, next time I'll hold the shiny badge and pretend like anything I say is actually important."

"Get up!" He snapped, dragging her up by her elbow with her hands once again cuffed behind her back. Sam sent a baleful smile to the agent hoisting a black-eyed Mike up.

"Gee, you guys really _don't_ have a sense of humor." She jested as she was walked back towards one of the rear SUVs away from a rapidly weakening Bumblebee.

The agent directing her shoved her quickly towards a car. He stopped, however, when a smug looking Simmons slapped a hand on his chest in a motion clearly indicating that he wanted the other agent to stop. Samantha glowered at the older agent at first before chuckling at the two pieces of rolled up tissue stuffed into his nose.

"Happy to see me again, kid?" Simmons queried, his smirk slowly fading in the face of her laughter.

"Better get that looked at, Agent Simmons." She cocked her head towards his plugged-up nose. "Don't want to ruin that pretty suit of yours with blood stains. After all, the suit is the only way anyone can tell that you're not really going back to work as the corner BP station tonight when you punch out." That ripped that arrogant look clean off his face.

"Put her in the car." He snarled to the agent tightly gripping her.

"Have a nice night, Agent Simmons." Sam called to him cheerily as he marched off to talk to some other agents.

Despite her better judgment she looked back over her shoulder to see Bumblebee's bright blue eyes staring at her. She gave him a sad, half-smile, trying to reassure him that somehow she was going to figure out a way to help him. She didn't know how she was going to free him yet, but she swore on her life that she would do whatever it took to get her new friend back to the others.

The last thing Sam felt before being shoved head-first into the back of the SUV was a warm wave of gratitude and reassurance that wrapped around her like a blanket.

She was damned near certain that those emotions weren't her own.

* * *

**Notes:** I hope this chapter meets with your approval. I personally wanted to see Simmons get his just desserts and a broken nose seemed to fit that bill quite nicely. Sure he may have straightened up in the end of the movie, but he deserved to be slapped at least once! I also love having Sam with an attitude to people who deserve it. To me it's better than having a cry-baby or someone that constantly explodes on others in a temper.

Please keep up the reviews. I'd like to have fifty (50) reviews before I post the next chapter.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Transformers, only my change in ideas.


	8. Chapter 8: Playing God

**Chapter Eight: Playing God**

Samantha jerked in and out of consciousness on the helicopter she was shoved into some time ago. She and Mike had not been permitted to get any sleep at all since they were driven to a place that looked like an abandoned warehouse. They'd been questioned mercilessly and been given only a single bathroom break.

She found it quite humorous that Mike finally got his snack-time after being a good little boy and not trying to break an agent's neck. Sam shared in one chocolate éclair before going back to her cheeky insults. She and Mike even shared in conversational jokes on the government in general as well as the local law force.

Though they found it funny, no one else was laughing. Sam was certain that at least half the agents wanted to decapitate them.

Eventually they'd been shuttled, no longer handcuffed, onto a helicopter. Apparently without the threat of their giant robot friends around, though in Sam's mind she could still hear Bumblebee crying out, they weren't considered nearly as dangerous. Neither one of them were about to tell the agents how truly foolish that idea was on their part. They were the proverbial lions that you never turned your back on. There was always the chance of being bitten.

Almost as soon as the copter had taken off, Sam had fallen into Mike's side with half-lidded eyes. Sam kept tabs, at least partially, of where and when they landed. She'd become aware of several other copters joining in the ranks at one stop as well as a pick-up of two people near sunrise.

The two newcomers, she'd come to discover, were named Maggie Madsen and Glen Whitmann. Maggie was a Sheila through and through, a real Australian girl that Sam made a distinct effort to refrain from mimicking. She'd always loved Australian accents. She was an attractive woman with dirty blonde hair and a petite figure. Something about her screamed 'no-nonsense' if you looked just right, but otherwise looked to be a lot of fun at a party. Glen was her physical opposite as well as personality leveler. Where Maggie was skinny, Glen was pleasantly plump and overly joking. Both were techno-geeks, though Glen seemed more 'illegal downloads and Halo worshiper' geek than 'government hacker' geek.

"Well, this is fun." Mike snorted out as he shifted his body slightly so that Sam would be a bit more comfortable. Her cheek had been cleaned and bandaged before they'd been loaded onto the chopper, but it still stung of the alcohol swabs they'd used to clean it out.

"Yeah." Maggie laughed a little into her headset while passing a glance to Glen, who shrugged his thick shoulders. When she returned her sights to the two teens before her, she trained her eyes on the more conscious of the two, which happened to be Mike. Sam was well aware of everything said, she just wanted to shut her eyes for a bit and relax while she could. After all, the world could be ending while they spoke. "So, what did they get you for?"

"You want the Cliff Notes version?" At their nod Mike gestured to Sam. "Short version is that Sam here bought a car that turned out to be a transforming, alien robot. We were also attacked by robo-cop on crack. After that these yahoos picked us up." Glen seemed awed, but Maggie showed little emotion to this new phenomenon. "How about you?" Mike questioned with a tilt to his head.

"Caught someone, maybe one of your buddies, hacking into _Air Force One_." With Maggie's explanation, Mike turned his attention to Glen and bid him to give his input.

"Me? I was just playing video games with my cousin when Maggie brought me an encrypted file. I'm just an innocent bystander." This time it was Samantha that snorted. She'd called it. Glen was the typical geek while Maggie was more high profile.

"What did you say your name was again?" Maggie asked Sam, a faint smile on her plump lips.

"Samantha Jane Witwicky. Resident alien aficionado."

"Witwicky?" Maggie sounded surprised. In fact, Glen _looked_ surprised. "You don't happen to know a Captain Arch–"

"Archibald Witwicky." Sam filled in with a nod. "Yep. He was my twice great grandfather. The weird crap in the family started with him. I'm thinking that I was born simply to carry on his legacy."

"Do you know about _Project Ice Man_?" Maggie persisted, her eyebrow cocked in question. Sam jerked her head in a half-nod, half-attempt to stay awake once more.

"Oh yeah." She snickered, forcing herself to sit up on her own. Mike steadied her even more with his hand on her shoulder even though the belt restraints pinning her to the seat would have kept her from being tossed about the cargo bay of the chopper. "In fact, the 'Ice Man' is one of my buddies. Well, not personally, but he's like them. People thought my grandfather was nuts and look at us. We're getting the special escort to some top secret government base for our perceived craziness."

Sam looked a Mike with a tired grin on her lips. "I should write a book. I'll call it 'The Do's and Don't's In Surviving Invasion'."

"I think I like 'Bass-Ackwards Is Our Motto' better." The jock retorted with a chuckle,

"See, we'd make a perfect team!" Sam cheered, her eyes lighting up with false mirth. "You can come up with the zippies and I'll write the good stuff."

"Hey!" He slapped her thigh with a laugh.

Just like that any tension between the four-some dissolved. They kept up normal banter about recent movie releases, games played, stores shopped at, where shoes were bought, while the copters descended over Lake Mead just behind the Hoover Dam. Sam couldn't help but grin internally when she thought about how Simmons had been telling the truth about the Dam after all. She also knew from their long interrogation back in that warehouse that her parents had been rerouted to a secluded base in Arizona and that her car, a.k.a. Bumblebee, was being shipped to the Dam as well. It was marvelous what a little eavesdropping could uncover.

When they finally exited the chopper, two 'escorts' gripping at Sam's and Mike's arms, Sam took notice of several military men with great tans departing from their own chopper as well as an unknown man with the Secretary of Defense John Keller and Agent Simmons, whose nose had been casted, from another. Both teens shrugged shoulders at each other before being smart-alecks and saluting them all. Glen and Maggie laughed behind them. Sam took great pride in seeing the tip of Keller's lips indicating his original urge to grin.

They were all led forward to an art deco entrance leading into the Dam. Sam only paid partial attention to the military men speaking beyond her to the Secretary of Defense as she looked out onto the lake with poorly contained awe. In the back of her mind she wondered if the Autobots had views like this back on Cybertron. From what she'd seen in that hologram she'd only seen death and destruction so she doubted it.

"Hey kid." That voice brought Sam out of her reverie. She turned a scowling face onto Agent Simmons, who was now smiling companionably at her. "I think we got off on the wrong foot…"

"Really?" She shot back, her eyes scanning over his casted nose. "I think I used the right foot. Would you like me to use the other?"

Samantha glared up at the agent, her lips pursed tightly. Simmons shared a similar expression, only he was trying to hide his dislike for her. They were interrupted by a tall man with a mustache and slightly balding brown hair. Around his wrist he had a silver briefcase cuffed. It only took Sam a moment to figure out that Simmons deferred to this guy.

The new guy looked at Sam. "My name is Tom Banachek. I head Sector Seven. Miss Witwicky, you've been brought here because we need your help. What you know, we need to know. Time is of the essence."

On that note she crossed her arms over her chest and gave the man a thorough once-over. He looked like the kind of guy that walked around like his crap didn't stink. He might have preached about doing it for the good of the country, but she had a nagging feeling at the pit of her stomach that this bozo got his jollies off of bossing others around. He enjoyed his position in life of smearing everyone under his thumb.

A lot like Agent Simmons.

"I'll make a deal with you Mister Banachek," she started, opting for the polite route, "I know that you have my friend here, my car that is, and I expect nothing to happen to him. You and all of your cronies will do absolutely nothing to harm him. I won't say a word unless you agree to that."

Simmons looked about to say something, probably along the lines of how she would be better off silent, but Banachek sent him a note-worthy glare before conceding to her demand. For the heck of it she smirked and added one more proviso.

"Also, anything on his record for possible rape," she jerked her head towards Mike, "is gone. He's clean as a whistle. Have we got a deal?"

"Deal." Banachek agreed immediately. She doubted that she could trust him entirely, but now if he lied she'd have an excuse to knee him in the balls. "Follow me." He ordered.

Sam and Mike were released from their 'escorts' holds and trailed after Banachek. The military guys looked at them funny, probably wondering how two teens got involved in all of this, but wisely remained silent about it.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Banachek commenced with his spiel as they strode through the massive turbine facility beneath the Dam, "we are facing the front end of an intergalactic war with beings far superior to our own. Like it or not, you are all here because each and every one of you have had direct contact with the NBEs. This, therefore, makes you the world's foremost experts on our visitors."

"What is an NBE?" Mike questioned out loud. "Your guys were throwing that term out a whole lot back in Nevada."

"Non-Biological Extraterrestrials." Simmons informed blandly. "Try to keep up with the acronyms, kid."

"Ah, so you mean like DILLIGAD and SSDD?" Mike shot back with obvious venom in his tone. Samantha barely held in her snort.

"I know SSDD." One of the military men spoke, Epps was his name if Sam recalled correctly. "But what's DILLIGAD?"

"Do I look like I give a damn?" Glen laughed. This time she did snort.

"They call themselves 'Cybertronians'." She inserted helpfully, bringing the situation back to what they had first intended.

"They told you that?" Banachek looked at her with disbelief in his eyes.

"Among other things." She grinned cheekily. She waved her hand forward in a practiced 'Vana White move'. "Please proceed."

"Very well." Banachek kept up the march, his face deadly serious. "What you are about to see only a handful of people have been granted access. This is beyond classified."

Sam stopped dead in her tracks as they entered the hanger at the end of the tunnel they had been passing through. Her stomach dropped like a sinking ship, but she could still taste bile in her throat. Her heart rate soared to phenomenal levels as her lavender eyes took in the form hitched up before them all, frosted over and held firmly between steel jaws, but no less frightening. Mike, too, had gone suddenly stiff.

The others seemed unaware of the teens' plight.

"We call him NBE One. We think that when he first entered Earth's atmosphere that he got caught in an electrical field and crash landed before becoming frozen within cross-current pressure ridges not too dissimilar to Archibald Witwicky."

"How did you keep this from the rest of the government all this time?" Keller posed with only a twinge of anger in his tone as he neared even closer to the titan before them.

"As I said, Sector Seven and all that it entails are totally classified."

"We're all going to die." Mike huffed out while rubbing his face with his hands. Everyone turned to look back at them. "I mean I always knew that the government could be stupid, but come on!" She shouted.

"What are you talking about?" Simmons demanded, not seeming to understand that he was no longer in the driver's seat, that he wasn't as smart as he thought he was.

"NBE One, better known as Megatron," Sam snarled as she stomped forward, "is the leader of the Decepticons."

"The bad guys." Mike inserted pointedly.

"Uh, yeah, I got that from the name." Another military man, maybe Lennox, stated blandly while still staring up into the face of the monolith. "Why here, though? Why Earth?"

"The Allspark." Sam grumbled while itching the bandage over her cheek. "Ole Megatwat here is after the Allspark, an energy source for their kind. You all have been housing the harbinger of death as far as I'm concerned, as far as my _friends_ are concerned. He plans to use the Allspark to bring 'life' to all of Earth's machines and then conquer the universe, starting off by destroying us all." She sent a pointed glance to Banachek. "Obviously you're out of your depth in a parking lot puddle."

She remained silent expecting a comeback. Instead she watched a look pass between Banachek and Simmons. She felt her eyes expand and her jaw drop with disbelief. She jerked a finger at the two men accusingly, an inferno burning in her belly.

"You know where the Allspark is!"

* * *

Samantha felt like bashing her skull up against the glass plating separating her from the massive alien cube. She couldn't help but think that the men running this country were prime candidates for natural deselection.

"This dam is one hundred football fields thick worth of cement, a perfect mask for the power radiating off of The Cube to any outside source." Simmons droned smugly.

"No." Sam hissed, baring her teeth to the agent she was quickly becoming bored with. Simply re-breaking his nose no longer sounded like fun. No, she wanted to string him up by the seat of his pants to the top of the Empire State Building for a few years. "No it is _not_ perfect. So what if they can't receive its signal now? It sent one out all those years ago when it first crash landed here. The only difference is that now instead of knowing exactly where it is they'll be annihilating everything in sight until they _do_ find it. It's like hunting for freaking buried treasure for these guys, only the prize equals world domination."

"Hold up a second." Maggie interjected, her brow brought down low in a frown. Her gaze was directed towards Banachek. "What kind of power are we talking about here?"

"Probably that whole 'life' thing I was talking about earlier." Sam waved her hands in the air as if trying to expel her frustration through sheer bodily force. When nobody answered her she stiffened instantly. "That's it, isn't it? You all are playing God."

If there was any accusation better than that, Sam dared anyone to step forward with it.

The only thing that she could do was follow the leader when the Sector Seven men instructed them to precede them into the metal room circling a steel and glass box within the center of said room. Samantha was the last to enter and jumped when the thick metal door shut behind her with an ominous _boom_. The answering slink of metal being thrown into locks didn't reassure her any, either.

"Take these." A technician wearing a fancy white lab coat ordered as he and Simmons tossed everyone thick, black goggles. Sam raised a brow as she looked them over before eyeballing Simmons and Banachek. Simmons had an almost excited look on his face.

"Does anyone have a mobile devise on them?" The only other technician asked kindly.

All the military guys shook their heads. Gazes fell onto the two teens, but they raised their hands in an 'I surrender' gesture. This got them odd looks.

"Don't look at us like that." Mike scoffed. He gestured with an open hand to the Sector Seven guys. "Even if these morons hadn't searched us when they first got a hold of us we wouldn't have our stuff. How were we to know not to leave our crap in the car?" More confused looks.

"As it turns out, once a Cybertronian changes from one form to another the stuff inside of him doesn't exactly make it through." Her face fell when she thought of something. "Ah, man! I had just gotten the new Slider, too. _Damn_."

Sam remained passive as Glen handed over his iPod touch. It wasn't until Mike poked her arm that she followed his eyes to a red ticker up in the uppermost left corner of the room. Her finger was automatically pointed in that direction as she glared at Simmons and Banachek.

"What's that?" She whispered, the horror of the idea running through her mind dangerously close to being true. Simmons pursed his lips.

"It's a 'Safe Days' counter."

That got everyone's attention. Like it was planned they all stiffened and turned towards the counter. Epps's face contorted as he looked at the number.

"One-hundred and twenty-six days?" He remarked, his eyes showing the same dread Sam felt roiling in the pit of her stomach.

"Yes." Simmons announced almost ecstatically as he placed Glen's phone into the little box before them. "Our last incident was one-hundred and twenty-_seven_ days ago. Our technicians finally figured out the proper wavelengths. It took a bad day to nail the concept in properly."

"Nail it in." One of the technicians mocked as he directed his sights to the claw marks in the southernmost wall. "You could say that."

"It was a _really_ bad day." The other techie allowed with a shudder.

"Haven't had an advanced piece in a while. They always are nastier." Simmons remarked as he slid his goggles into place. Sam didn't know about anyone else, but she scurried to get her own goggles on.

As soon as Simmons had latched the door at the back of the box he triggered the button on the stand off to the side. Blue light flashed in the little box and the hairs on the back of Sam's neck stood on end while she felt her heart slow to a drugged pace as power unlike she'd ever felt in her life rushed through her. She felt like she just downed seven Volts, two Red Bulls, eight caffeine pills, and then chased it all with an adrenalin kick. As quickly as it was there, though, it was gone again, along with the light.

Her buzz-kill lasted as long as it could take to blink, which happened to be the span in which Glen's phone transformed into a little spider-like demon with red eyes within the box.

Everyone's jaws went slack.

"So you just directed that radiation into Glen's phone?" Maggie inquired as she took in the little form before her. "You just brought something to life?"

"No." Samantha found herself denying it before she could even think of keeping the words to herself. Her tongue swelled in her mouth as she sickened, watching as the little being rammed itself again and again into the walls of the box, scratching at anything and everything. Tears stung her eyes as she watched its patternless, aimless, jerky movements. "He didn't give it life. He gave it movement with no thought behind it. No soul. He animated a literally lifeless shell and thinks himself God."

They all looked at her like she was the crazy one, but as the tears continued to flow she couldn't help but wish this poor creature a swift death. In so many ways this was wrong. The once-cell phone was in a certain sense 'alive', but he was not living. No, he was like a zombie corpse summoned by a necromancer, a self-functioning puppet.

"Please, make it stop." She begged out in a whisper. After a minute Simmons nodded once and pulled out a small cartridge attached to a cable connecting to the box. Before pressing the trigger the little being looked straight at her with red eyes and Sam choked on a sob. "I'm so sorry." She mouthed, unable to bring the sounds to her lips.

The power rush returned on swift wings when Simmons pressed the button. Light flooded the box once more, this time accompanied by a pain-filled shriek. Sam forced herself not to look away. Instead she waited for the smoke within the box to clear, the power having disappeared as soon as Simmons released the trigger. When they could see the little being again he was charred in places, components melting away.

They all took off their goggles slowly, the others taking notice of her reddened, moist eyes. Most of them looked sick.

"I guess sabot rounds really do work." Banachek muttered. Everyone heard him.

Sam couldn't bring herself to take delight in the disgusted and enraged look the military men and Keller passed the man. Even Simmons seemed to clue into the fact that what they had been doing was sadism, torture, simple mutilation in that instant; that the creatures they were bringing to life weren't bent on destruction due to an evil nature. No, they were running off of an unconscious instinct to survive. That entailed getting out of the box and fleeing to where no one could harm them.

Then they were summarily destroyed.

And Sector Seven had been doing this for years.

Mike wrapped an arm around her waist as if to support her in case she was to fall. At this point in time she wasn't adverse to the help. She'd never felt more nauseous in her life.

As Sam fought not to give into her sickness, the ground shook slightly beneath them followed by the flickering of the lights. All who were tense before began to look around jerkily as if expecting something to pop through the walls like a Jack-In-The-Box. The door locking them in thunked open, providing an exquisite view of the Allspark.

"Those were concussion blasts. Someone's attacking the Dam." Lennox announced, his face taut. He looked between his men, Keller, and the agents, completely ignoring the 'civilians'. "Could be terrorists."

"You're an optimist." Epps grunted.

"He's right." Keller assured them all. "No terrorists could get out here without earlier notice. This is…something else. Something bigger."

Silence lingered in the air like a dagger, eagerly awaiting the first person to strike down. Samantha's eyes refused to remove themselves from the Allspark and the currents rippling visibly over its decorated shell.

"They know it's here." She spoke in a matter-of-fact tone that might have frightened small children, even grown adults. Heck, she felt Mike flinch beside her.

"Where's your armory?" Lennox barked, his soldier instincts kicking in.

* * *

In the armory the military men and the few Sector Seven agents that Banachek had been able to scrounge up were loading themselves with weapons. Sam paced uncontrollably, her body tingling after that fateful encounter with the radiation box. In fact, her hands were actually shaking like she had failed in decompression. She could feel the tic in her eye thrumming at a steady pace to her frantic heartbeat, which was a normal pace for her. She tried to hide her ailments from the others, but Mike was keeping a close eye on her.

Eventually he strolled up beside her and took her cheeks into his big hands, forcing her to look into his baby blue eyes. "Are you okay? I mean that physically, Sam." He spoke quietly so that none of the others could hear. She supposed they looked to anyone else like they were having an intimate moment. "You look like you're about to have a seizure on me or something."

"I'll be good." She sighed out, gently prying his hands from her face. "Just give me a few minutes and I'll be back up to snuff." Michael gave her a half-heart smile.

"Yeah, I'd like my smart-mouthed friend back. You don't do brooding as well as I do."

"POWER FAILURE." The intercoms rattled off in a woman's electronic monotone. "GENERATORS OFFLINE. SYSTEM FAILURE. CRYOGENICS SYSTEMS FAILURE EMINENT."

"Ohhh I so didn't want to hear that." Glen cried from where he stood beside Maggie over her cell phone, since his was kaput.

"We can't get word out." Maggie spoke frantically as she tried to work with the phone.

"Like you could." Mike yelled over to them. They both shot him a surprised look. "Enormously thick concrete walls, remember? I can't even get service going under Madison Bridge let alone down here."

"We were seeing if we could tap into the subterranean lines built within the walls. If not, we thought that we could…" Michael cut the Australian woman off with a wave of his hand.

"Don't explain now. Just think of something."

Sam had thought of something. She had been thinking about it since before they had even reached the Dam. She marched up to Simmons who was loading what she suspected were sabot rounds into a gun and pointed a finger at him.

"Take me to my car." She ordered, determined to ignore the now subtle shaking in her hands. "He'll know what to do with The Cube."

"Are you crazy?" Simmons snapped, his own finger jutting upward to point to the ceiling. "Do you know what's going on up there? You remember what happened to your little freaky friend in the box? Do you really want to find out what your car can do to the rest of the outside world?"

"Are you willing to risk Megatron or his henchmen getting it first?"

"We have a better shot with my car than we do with Megatron." She gestured around them. "Either way, if we don't do anything we're all dead." When Simmons looked about to object once more Lennox charged up into his face and took the other man by the collar of his vest.

"Listen to the girl!" He growled out, his men surrounding the other Sector Seven agents. "She's right. We've seen what these things are capable of. I have a wife and baby at home waiting for me and I'll be damned if your superior bullshit is going to keep me from them. You haven't a clue of what to do and the girl does, so give her her car back!"

The room was tense and silent with exception of the continued concussion blasts and repeated words over the intercom. Sam looked fiercely onto the agent as he looked over the Captain's shoulder. She saw something in the man's eyes shift and inwardly sighed with relief.

"Fine." Simmons grumbled. "Put your faith in the kid's robot. Just don't come crying to me when you find yourselves dropped into something you didn't want to be involved in."

Mike looked from Simmons, to Banachek, and then to Keller. "It's hard to believe he beat out one thousand other sperm, isn't it?"

* * *

Sam stormed through the laboratory doors separating her from Bumblebee. The sight inside made her wince and mark down in the back of her mind that she owed Banachek a swift kick in the balls once all this was said and done.

Bumblebee was restrained to a metal slab, pulses remnant of the ones from the box earlier rolling over him in waves, his cries of pain echoing horribly throughout the chamber. Sam leapt between some of the technicians and the controls they were fiddling with, pleading for them to stop. It wasn't until Banachek entered, a little winded from their run down the corridors, that all work on Bumblebee ceased.

"Bumblebee!" Sam called out as she hurried to stand beside the slab. She watched on as her friend adjusted himself into a sitting position, shaking his massive head in a very human gesture. "Are you okay, Bumblebee?"

Her words seemed to finally cut through whatever haze he was in because the automaton whirled on her so quickly she would have bet that were he human he would have had whiplash. A wave of relief not entirely her own descended down upon her like a waterfall as his blue eyes connect with her lavender ones. In the next instant she found herself plucked off of the ground like a ragdoll and hugged to a surprisingly warm metallic chest. Whirls and clicks emanated from within his chest, their combination unmistakably happy.

"Yeah, I'm glad to see you too." She assured quickly. Her eyes came off as frantic as she turned to look up into Bumblebee's face. "Megatron's here. The Decepticons are coming. We have to get the Allspark out of here."

Without further ado the titan was on his feet, still clutching Sam to his chest in one hand, and running through a neighboring tunnel in the direction of the Allspark chamber. Sam tried to look behind Bumblebee, but he wouldn't ease his grip enough to allow for proper movement. Beyond his pounding footsteps, though, she could hear the quicker, more frequent steps of her fellow humans.

Only once they were in the hanger did Bumblebee set Sam down onto her feet once more. She watched with wide eyes, heart pumping, as Bumblebee strode right up beneath the Allspark. Footsteps nearby drew her attention towards the corridor they had just emerged from.

"Where are Maggie, Glen, Simmons, and Keller?" Sam asked, only half present at the moment, some piece of her drifting towards the scene behind her where Bumblebee stood below the Allspark.

"They went into the old radio room." Mike informed as he looked her over, his eyes skeptical. Sam couldn't blame him. "They're going to try and contact Nellis Air Base to get planes here to bomb these a-holes to bits. What's he doing?"

Sam turned just in time to watch Bumblebee stick his hands out towards the Allspark, a low whirling coming from his chest, before laying hands upon its ancient surface. With the sudden, blinding lightshow no one saw Sam's body jerk forcefully upon initial contact, nor the brightening of her eyes. She felt that rush of power again, only this time she felt submerged in it, as if she was swimming in an ocean of raw energy. Her hair got a slight static charge to it even as her hands began to twitch more noticeably.

"Woah." Was the definitive response from everyone, not just Epps, as they watched The Cube transform in upon itself. The glyphs upon the shell resized to smaller proportions even as the entire Cube shrunk in size until it was finally roughly the size of a football. Bumblebee looked at her then, just as the power deserted her, his eyes glowing.

"_Saddle up, pilgrim_." A deep southern voice drawled from Bumblebee's speakers a second before he transformed taking the Allspark within him.

Sam looked back to the military men, surprised to see looks on their faces as if asking her what to do next. She fought past her disbelief before running to the doors that had spontaneously opened to the Camaro. When she looked back up, her eyes were determined.

"Follow us. We're going to teach our new buddies how to place 'Keep Away'."

With that she and Mike hopped into the Camaro. The doors shut behind them even as their seatbelt came up of their own volition and snapped them in. A glance into the rear seat confirmed that the Allspark was snuggled up into the black and yellow upholstery as well, a belt holding it firmly in place.

In the next instant Bumblebee's tires were squealing and the two teens found their bodies thrust back into their seats.

No one seemed to notice the shocks of blue lightning running passively through Sam's eyes, nor the equal pulses humming off of the Allspark.

* * *

**Notes: **So this is where the really important changes are coming up that differentiate my story from the movie. I hope y'all keep tuned in and don't judge it too quickly. I personally enjoy my spin I'm putting on the story, but hey, to each his/her own. Please tell me what you think of this chapter. It's one of my favorites next to the one where Sam first purchases Bumblebee. Feel free to point out any and all mistakes you see. I always correct them if they hold merit or are simple blunders that I made.

I would like seventy (70) reviews before I post the next chapter. I never ask for many as I don't want to keep those that really do want to read the rest of the story waiting because others don't like to review. I have to go through that with other writers enough as it is.

Please enjoy.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Transformers. I wish I did, though. I'd be rich.


	9. Chapter 9: Into The Fray

**Chapter Nine: Into The Fray**

The Sun was high in the sky, blazing, burning bright down upon the travelers zooming through the deserted landscape towards Vegas. People commonly flocked to Vegas for a night or two of fun and gambling, to paint the town red. The current travelers on that same stretch of highway weren't headed for Vegas, but Sam had a sinking suspicion that they were indeed going to paint the town red.

She could only hope that no more blood would be spilled than absolutely necessary.

This time around Bumblebee did not play any songs. Whatever mimicry the Camaro had adopted while on Earth had since been wiped away. He was no longer the joking, carefree car she'd bought at Bolivia's. This was Bumblebee, the thousands year old soldier that experienced death and horrors beyond human comprehension.

"Sam?" She turned her head quickly to face Mike who was sitting in the passenger's seat. His baby blues connected with hers momentarily before looking down to where she had her hands clenched in her lap. "Seriously, are you okay? You've been shaking ever since Glen's phone."

At that remark she looked down. Indeed, her hands were trembling. Uncurling her fingers she found them shaking minutely, but rapidly. They were like hummingbird wings. The tic in her eye had left only a short while ago, but her heart was still pumping harder than it ever had before.

"I might be having a panic attack or something."

"But doesn't that usually include breathing problems?" He set the back of his hand to her forehead checking her temperature. She pushed it aside.

"Not always, no. This used to happen when I was really little when I lived in the city with my parents, okay?" With her quaking fingers she pulled the string out of her hoody and began to tie it into her hair to keep it out of her face in an impromptu ponytail. "My parents took me to the doctors a few times and they all said that nothing was physically wrong with me. They chalked it up to anxiety. At this point I'm not surprised that I'm a nervous wreck."

"Yeah, I'm kind of surprised that I'm not freaking out either." He chuckled, though his eyes belayed his nervousness over her. "Will you be all right? I mean, you're not going to collapse on me?"

"No, Mike. I'm not going to have a heart attack or anything like that."

She peered into the back seat once more to look at the Allspark. With its size and deceivingly simple shape, it was inconspicuous. Any unsuspecting bystander might just think it a hunk of scrap metal with tribal symbols carved into it. It looked like a gang piece. Who would ever guess that this insignificant looking thing had within it the power to give life to an entire world?

Sam couldn't help but think that there was a flaw in that logic, though. She'd literally _felt_ it with Glen's phone. What Sector Seven had been bringing life to back in the Dam had not been alive. The Allspark brought forth life, but no soul. The Allspark gave power, but no force beyond that.

"Life without cause is life without effect." She mumbled.

"What?" Michael queried, his own head turned to look where she was.

"Nothing." Samantha rushed out, raising her head to monitor the convoy following them. Lennox and his men were following them as ordered. Instead of getting a big ego from bossing around a bunch of hardened military men, Sam felt skittish. While it was true that she didn't follow all the rules, she certainly preferred to let somebody else take the lead. This situation more so than others due to the unfamiliar territory. Yes she'd had 'contact' with the aliens, even given them the key they needed to finding the Allspark, but she wasn't a fighter. She was a dancer, one that only yesterday had been terrified of being touched by an unfamiliar male.

Now she was jumping on government agents' backs and taking physical comfort from the school play boy.

She startled when a high powered engine growled from in front of them. She whirled and an all-encompassing smile broke across her face. There on the highway coming from the other direction was an eighteen-wheeler, a sleek silver sports car, a tricked-out pickup, and an emergency rescue vehicle.

"Score one for the good guys!" She shouted with mirth as the Autobots rumbled past them only to fishtail and create a blockade around the convoy. Sam noticed Lennox's tense face in the vehicle behind them and gave him a thumbs-up through the open window of Bumblebee to show that they were friends. She got a salute back.

Almost as soon as they had reached the limits of Mission City, Sam tensed up in her seat. A prickling sense of awareness trembled down her spine. A pressure in the back of her mind told her that their little convoy was no longer alone.

She turned in her seat until she was wrenched all the way around. She ignored the incessant tugging of the seatbelt in order to take in the oncoming menaces. Her heart plunged at the sight of the cop car accompanying a mine-clearing vehicle, excavating prongs included. They were Decepticons, no doubt about that.

Her horror turned soul-crushing when she watched the duo run human cars off the road, in some cases even annihilating them. One, and Sam winced at seeing it, was flipped over the back of the excavator by the prongs, the shower of sparks and fire incredible.

She was strangely captivated as Optimus slammed on his brakes to pull back to the duo's position before transforming for all the world to see.

"Damn. It's Round Two of the Alien Smackdown." Michael cursed a blue streak afterwards upon seeing the Autobot leader charge the now transformed excavator. "That's it! Smack him!"

Samantha had no doubt that they looked like a couple of loons as they waved their arms around in Bumblebee, rooting the massive red and blue robot on. Bumblebee kept moving away from the scene, leaving Optimus to handle the excavator and the cop car. Still, Sam couldn't help but cheer when before they got too far out of sight to see Optimus wrench Barricade's head around on his shoulders. Michael's echoing '_yeah_' had their seatbelts tightening in a no longer tolerant manner. They quickly found themselves pinned quite effectively to their seats. Sam wasn't sure how tight Mike's restraint was, but she couldn't move her back even an inch away from the backing of the seat.

She watched mutely as Lennox's vehicle took the lead into the city. Bumblebee followed without prompt. Sam ran her hands over her face, acutely aware of the stinging in her cheek. This day was not going well at all.

Mike snatched her hand away from her face suddenly, drawing her attention back to him. He cupped it in his gently, running his thumb over her shaking fingers. She felt wet trails running down her cheeks and realized that she was crying.

"This is just so wrong." She gestured around them with her free hand to encompass the other Autobots as well as the military convoy. "All this fighting. All of it so that they can have control over that…thing! And what does it do? It gives strength to a soulless body that can be controlled without a thought and nobody cares!"

Michael stayed silent for a long moment, his eyes contemplative, before he furrowed his brows. "What they did really affected you, didn't it?"

"What do you think?" She snapped, gesturing with her shaking hand to her face. "I haven't cried in years, Mike. I haven't had a panic attack since we moved out of the city. I saw Glen's phone and it just hurt to look at him. No, it wasn't even a _him_; Glen's phone was an _it_, hell-bent on survival and that was it. It wasn't going to think anything past living. The Decepticons want to use that, they want to have soldiers that won't think beyond the fight, beyond surviving. Soldiers that won't give out entail, won't stop until they are the only things left standing."

The horror that suddenly spread on Michael's face was the kind that had been roiling in the pit of her stomach since Glen's phone was given 'life'. He understood, he finally _got_ it. His hand clenched around her own as fury kicked in.

"And Sector Seven…"

"Has been doing this for years. The Decepticons have been knowingly chasing it for longer than that with all the knowledge of _what_ they were doing." She hissed out, turning to stare into Bumblebee's silent radio. "You tell me right here and now, Bumblebee, I don't care how many sound bytes you need to do it, what were you going to do with the Allspark once you found it?"

The silence that suspended between them seemed to last an eternity, a span in which Sam was contemplating asking the question again, but then the radio clicked on. A song she hadn't heard since she was a kid popped through the speakers and if it hadn't been for the seriousness of the situation, she might have laugh.

_We'll make him face his doom_

_If a monster comes in our room_

_We'll send him to his doom_

_If a monster comes in our room_

_We'll blow him up, KABOOM!_

"Alvin and the Chipmunks. Real original." Mike muttered out loud as if hoping to break up the tension.

"I know that I'm no more than an insignificant speck compared to you," Sam tried to start, only to have the belt tighten even more about her as if to reassure her that he did not think that at all. Still she persisted. "But no matter how young I am and how desperately you may think you need the Allspark, at some point it's going to fall into the wrong hands. If that happens, I fear for everyone. You have to swear to me, Bumblebee, swear to me that no matter what the Allspark isn't going to survive this."

This time there was no pause, no thought to respond for Bumblebee. Samantha couldn't help but smile softly when she was overwhelmed with the feeling of tender friendship and promise. Whitney Houston wafted through the cab and her grin grew if only faintly.

_Count on me through thick and thin_

_A friendship that will never end_

_When you are weak I will be strong_

_Helping you to carry on_

_Call on me I will be there_

_Don't be afraid_

_Please believe me when I say (Please believe me when I say)_

_Count on...._

_(You can count on me, oh yes you can, ahhh)_

"Thank you, Bumblebee." She whispered just as Lennox slowed to a halt before them. She watched him as he quickly hopped out from his vehicle and ran into a little pawn shop. Her brows slanted downward, she sent Mike a look. "What's he doing?"

"Beats me." The jock shrugged.

A few minutes later the captain came back holding two CB radios. Sam's mouth drew up into a wide smile.

"Freaking genius!" She shouted. At Mike's questioning stare she took her hand back from him. "Those things are ancient, but they can relay anything! If Maggie and the others got that notice out to Nellis, then we can direct the barrage here."

"Oh." Came his genius response. The inner-Sam snorted. Once a jock, always a jock.

They remained stationed as Lennox and Epps worked with the CBs to try and get through to someone, anyone really. Samantha stiffened in her seat when she felt that unnerving prickle once more. Before she could even think on it a fighter plane soared overhead. The prickle turned to a downright tremor.

With the swiftness born of age and expertise, Bumblebee unlashed them from their seats, flung the doors open, and shook them out. Michael was at the other side of the now transforming Camaro cursing up a storm, unaware of why they had just been ejected, but Sam knew too well.

"We've got air cover." Epps was speaking into the CB. "We've got visual confirmation." Already she was shaking her head in denial of that claim. One of the other military guys tossed a can of green colored smoke while Epps called for an extraction.

For some reason Sam doubted that they'd ever get that extraction.

The Autobots did not wait for any call from the military men. They simply acted. Sam couldn't help but think that they had gotten the same warning sensation that she had, at least in some sense. They moved with long-practiced precision; with intimate knowledge of war and death.

The fighter jet descended like a fallen angel into the city, ominous in his beauty, his terrifying beauty. It was that drop that signaled to all that no human piloted the jet, but it was the unleashing of missiles upon their convoy that had hell breaking lose.

"Nooo!" Lennox hollered as he dove to the side in a futile attempt to save himself, countless others mimicking his maneuver.

Sam dropped instinctively to her knees and covered her head even as she saw Bumblebee and Ironhide rushing to a nearby cargo truck. They flanked the brutish truck with no regard to their own safety, exposing themselves to the attack, and tipped it to shield the humans as best they could.

Samantha screamed bloody murder when the missiles blew the truck in half and catapulted the smaller Bumblebee two separate ways, his torso in one while his legs went the other. She might not have seen the Allspark wrench from Bumblebee's inner chamber, but she felt the power-rush of its sudden contact with the ground. If it had just been concussions from the jet's attack she might have done something other than drop her jaw wide and gawk behind her where the Cube had landed. The power rush died a quick death, but the dread of seeing the blue pulses running into surrounding electronic devices would forever be imprinted upon her mind.

Almost as if instinctually her eyes moistened as machines began shifting, changing, morphing into their new bipedal forms. A parked Escalade shifted directly in front of what Sam suspected to be its once-owner. A Mountain Dew machine broke free from its anti-theft cage and began to fire upon the screaming humans. An appliance store not even half a block down just within sights began to march out dozens of alien, robotic forms, all of which were fighting for a freedom which they had no knowledge of, would never attain.

"Sam!" The deep voice drew her out of her newly found turmoil. Her head whirled to see Michael running towards her. He fell before her and pried a piece of underground piping off of her back, something she hadn't even been aware until then of having landed upon her. His hands claimed each of her cheeks. "Are you all right?"

No matter how much she wanted to laugh at that idiotic question she couldn't.

"I'm fine." She barked simply. "Where's Bumblebee?"

Michael gestured and sure enough there was Bumblebee. Using great mechanical fingers, the automaton dragged his torso towards the innocent-looking Allspark. Cannon fire erupted around them and Sam knew without a shadow of a doubt that the war was really on now.

"Bumblebee!" She cried, surging to her feet.

She ran after her handicapped friend, her eyes taking in the scene around her frantically. That awareness was still there as she took account of every vehicle or robot. One such was down the block, an Abrams tank. Jazz was in the process of derailing him from the scene. Ratchet and Ironhide were caught between fighting off a slippery Decepticon jet and the rampaging tank.

Her body physically spasmed and her steps faltered when a cold pressure invaded her mind. It was dark and menacing, something that she never wanted to ever feel again, but unlike the pulse before this one didn't go away. It only got more oppressive as it got closer.

And it _was_ getting closer.

Flaring her nostrils she watched with muted fear as her twice great grandfather's infamous 'ice man' came soaring onto the battlefield. A blast of energy rocketed from his frame, knocking Jazz off of the tank and into a neighboring building. Megatron followed Jazz's body in an aerial tackle. Megatron landed on his feet while Jazz did not. A sick replay played through her mind as Megatron set his foot onto Jazz's stomach.

"Dear God! No!" She was already moving towards them, as if she had any hope of stopping what was about to happen, but one of the military men that had begun to surround she and Mike grabbed her arms and forced her to stay back.

It was knee-buckling to see the Decepticon leader literally rip another of his own kind's heart out in person. She felt something snap in her mind, like an electrical whip straining across her senses, as the glowing blue orb within Megatron's hand flickered briefly before going completely black.

"Don't do it." She pleaded in a near whisper, now backing away from the sight.

She watched as Megatron's fist began to clench around Jazz's heart. It almost seemed to be going in slow motion. She felt like her mind was trying to delay the inevitable and still make her savor it as well. It was something that she didn't want to see ever again, hologram or in real life, but she couldn't look away. She refused to let him pass with nobody to know the truth. She reached her heart out to him and held onto his memory, determined to never forget him.

She stumbled backwards, falling into a heap over Bumblebee's outstretched arm. Her entire focus still on Megatron she didn't even register when her hand managed to brush across the Allspark's surface. She did, however, feel the spike of power running through her quaking fingertips to her brain and heart. She was enveloped in a blanket of warmth and feeling that left her gasping. So caught up in both what she was seeing and what she was feeling she didn't register the flicker of Jazz's optics where his body lay on the ground, not the brightening of the other Autobot's optics.

Just as she thought the Decepticon leader's claws would finally shatter Jazz's heart, a very familiar form barreled out from a nearby alleyway and tackled the evil automaton. Jazz's heart was wrenched from the leader's grasp at the force of the collision and rolled lifelessly towards the foot of the fallen soldier.

"Hello brother." Came Megatron's gravely deep voice.

Optimus backed away from his nemesis slowly, each step measured, before his baritone too joined in the fray. "Hello brother."

There was nothing else to be said as they charged each other once more. Sam didn't have the luxury of watching this particular battle. She became suddenly preoccupied by the square artifact thrust into her awaiting arms by the mangled Bumblebee.

"What?" She questioned him, the rest of her trembling now as much as her hands had been. Even her eye had the tic back.

"G-g-g-ooooo S-s-s-s-s-s-a-a-m." Bumblebee forced out through rewired synapses and relays.

It was Bumblebee's real voice, not borrowed movie lines or dissected song clips, which broke her resolve to be among the Autobots for the battle. Bumblebee was being himself, being the warrior and soldier he was. He was asking her to do earlier what she had promised him. Keep the Allspark away from the 'bad guys' and make sure that it never falls into the wrong hands. This was Bumblebee making a demand of her to do what was right for all and not just the few.

Clenching her jaw, she nodded her head firmly.

She looked to Mike quickly as Lennox came at her from a short distance away. Her lavender eyes were practically glowing as she straightened her spine in determination. "You get him out of here, Mike. No matter what, _you fight_."

The jock seemed startled by her sudden command. She could even feel it. She could feel a different kind of power running through her now. It wasn't of physical strength, but of authority and leadership. She was releasing waves upon waves of command that even hardened war generals had practiced for decades to obtain. Mike really had no choice but to ascent shakily.

"Lennox!" Sam barked out, hurrying over to the man. "Please tell me you have the go for an extraction."

She got a quick nod of confirmation before he slapped a flare down into her free shaking hand. "Take that and get onto the roof of that building!" He shouted over the gunfire and explosions around them. "A chopper will pick you up to get that Cube out of here. No move! Hurry!"

Sam sent one last look back at Mike and Bumblebee before taking off like a shot through the chaotic streets of Mission City, now a battlefield for an alien race hell-bent on absolute control.

As she ran, her long, well trained legs eating at the ground like waves breaking on the shore, a shadow passed over her and stayed shielding her. Her head turned slightly to see both Ironhide and Ratchet flanking both sides of her. They urged her on silently, fighting with a now duo flying terror in the sky consisting of the F-22 raptor and a helicopter. She concentrated on not thinking about anything else besides getting the Allspark away from the Decepticons. Still, she couldn't help but notice odd sensations running through her body and mind like a sixth sense. She was getting feelings that she was sure weren't her own and even perceiving the battle raging around her in an almost omniscient standpoint.

People running frantically in the streets were taking in the robotic war around them with terrified eyes. Most were grime-covered. Others were injured, either minor or severely. Their attention would be riveted upon the mechanical terrors for most of the time, but on a chance sighting they couldn't help but take notice of the darting seventeen-year old girl holding onto what might appear to be a small television or controller box. Once she was clear from sight they would turn back to the mayhem, counting her as one of the many miserable lowlifes that used this tragic situation as their chance at thievery.

She was forced into an all-stop when the F-22 dropped before her. Her steps skidded backwards until she was braced behind a red Honda. The cannon fire both making contact upon the jet's body as well as the concussions from his own outward blasts had her covering her ears, huddling like the frightened child she really was. Still she kept her eyes open for an opportunity to make a break for the building.

It came when the F-22 fired a shot at Ironhide's chest, barely missing it for his stomach. Ratchet used the distraction of the jet focusing on Ironhide to charge him. Before she knew it the three were in a robo-dog pile, flattening cars around them like they were marshmallows.

"Run, Sam!" Ratchet shouted from the tangle of limbs.

She needed no extra motivation from the Autobot. She sprinted away from her hiding spot, slipping the flare into her front pocket. She refused to look back. She just dodged as many flying projectiles, unbalanced feet, and broken scenery. A smug part of her realized that though she may not have strength on her side or the size, being smaller certainly made her more agile.

The dilapidated building loomed before her like a beacon, demanding that she hurry.

The angular silver form charging up behind her only encouraged her further.

She broke through the front entrance a short time later, her head knocking from one side to the other, before darting for the back of the building. If there were service stairs, no matter how old the building, they wouldn't be in the front. That just wasn't good on an architectural standpoint or aesthetically pleasing. So back she went, trying not to listen to the front windows crashing in.

Sam couldn't help but feel like a rat trapped in a maze with a feral cat just behind her. Every misstep she made could result in her death. Every wrong turn, every heartbeat, every blink of the eye could mean the end of her run and the beginning of the end for mankind.

She found the access door to the service stairs behind the apparent kitchen. She pounded up them two at a time. By now her legs were burning and her breaths were coming out in short gasps. If it hadn't been for all of her strenuous hours of training in the studio she had no doubt that she'd be a limp noodle on the ground by that point.

_Think of Madame Lune._ She tried to distract herself. Think of all the stretches. Think about running track. Think about the gymnastics lessons. She could practically hear the older woman pushing her on in her training, ordering her to lift her leg higher, get better momentum, grab for Travis a second earlier than she had before, dance as if there was no…

The floor shuddered underneath her as a metallic skull and clawed arm crashed upward. Red eyes glared holes into her as she dodged the claw reaching out for her and scampered up the steps.

_Shit!_ She cursed in her mind. _What happened to Optimus?_

When she reached the roof it was no surprise to find it just as abandoned as the rest of the building. Still moving, she fished the flare out of her pocket and ignited it. The flare exploded upward and into the air, signaling to all that she was prepared.

A wide grin broke across her face as the choppers came into view. Her adrenalin kicked in overtime at the first real sign of hope since this whole thing began.

That hope, though, was given a quick death at the sight of an F-22 transforming over a nearby building and immediately aiming to fire. Sam backtracked to get out of the blast zone, gesturing wildly towards the Decepticon locked onto them. It was too late, however, for the man in the cargo hold to shout out a mayday.

The world seemed to blow up around her then.

As a missile made contact with the upper propellers of the chopper sending it spiraling for the earth below a very familiar, demonic form burst from the ground beneath and behind her. The concussion of the upward thrust through the roof sent her rolling forward. Like a sock'em clown she pushed herself back up almost instantly and ran for the edge of the roof. Her nimble feet brought her to stand on the ledge overlooking the burning battlefield below that had only earlier that morning been a busy city street.

"Hello Maggot." Sam turned only her head from the edge and glared up and up at the behemoth that was the epitome of evil. She had no where left to go, but she'd be damned if she was going to cower before him as she knew he wanted her to. She could feel that superiority, that sheer smugness of impending victory flowing off of him. "Give me the Allspark, fleshling. You have no knowledge of its true power."

"Wrong, Oh conceited one." She chided, her feet shuffling back and forth where she stood as Megatron slowly stalked towards her. "I know enough and I also know that you are _never_ going to command the Allspark."

"Pretty words for a fragile insect." Megatron chuckled, though it didn't sound the least bit humorous. The blanket of menace unfolding from him didn't improve his case any. "Unfortunately that is all you are. An insect. The Allspark is useless to you. Give it to me and I may decide to show mercy upon you and kill you quickly."

"You'll only get the power of the Allspark when I'm dead and buried." Sam had no idea of how true that statement would turn out to be.

"So unwise." He hissed, swinging his hand back to strike.

"Didn't you hear Megatron? Intelligence doesn't always amount to survival value!" She shouted as she whirled completely and leapt from the building. Megatron brought his arm down at the same time, lashing at where she would have been standing only moments before.

Samantha decided as she fell that she had changed her mind about always wanting to cliff dive. She had thought that it would be a great rush and a lot of fun. Tumbling headlong from a thirty-some story building wasn't a rush. It was piddle-yourself worthy. She determined in that instant that she didn't particularly care for heights. Air rushed by her n a flurry. The Allspark was clutched tightly to her chest as if it were her child. She held her breath and waited for an impact that would splatter her like a bug on a windshield over the asphalt below.

An impact came, but not the one she was originally intending.

Though the wind was still knocked out of her and she was almost certain that she'd cracked a rib or two, she wasn't blown to bits. Her forcefully widened eyes took in the massive metallic hand that had wrapped itself about her and the red and blue chest she was tucked securely against.

"Optimus!" She cheered with what little breath she had left.

"Hold on, little one." He spoke solidly as they tumbled together for the earth. Up above Megatron let loose a roar of unadulterated fury. He dove after them and Sam had a quick-flash image of possibly surviving this fall only to be pancaked between the earth and the other titan now soaring after them.

Optimus moved with such precision it was a wonder if he had actually done this exact thing before. He ejected a cannon from his back and fired it upon the Decepticon trailing after them. The first couple impacts made no-never mind, but the third hit echoed off of his silver chest, catapulting him far enough off of them so that when they landed he would not crush them. Optimus then used his colossal feet to slow their descent by jamming them into the walls of the nearby building.

The fall was still drastic, crater and flume-cloud worthy when they were reacquainted with the ground, but not nearly as severe as if they had struck without a reduction of speed. Without a wall to slow his descent, Megatron made a ten-point impression of the perfect belly-flop into the asphalt below him only a couple dozed feet away from them.

The hit upon the earth had Sam crying out in pain as her ribs jostled against Optimus's chest and the Allspark's smaller form. Her head also knocked forcefully enough against said Autobot's chest that sparks not involved in the fighting exploded in her vision.

Her body slid nearly inoperable from Optimus's chest when his fingers uncurled from about her. The Allspark was still held to her…miraculously. Her steps faltered as she backed away from the Prime, but the gentle finger upon her back served as support enough to get past her vertigo.

"The Allspark is not the source of your kind's spark." Optimus began incredulously as he watched her with bright blue eyes. "Why would you risk your life for the Allspark, for us?"

She looked straight into his eyes and smiled very softly. The tone she used was the kind used to bestow some grand idea of humanity upon young children by an indulgent mother. Somehow it just came as instinct even in the face of something…some_one_ as substantial as Optimus Prime.

"A life without cause is a life without effect." She recited her earlier words from within Bumblebee. Her gaze shifted to the Allspark for a split second before she bore her eyes back into Optimus's. "I've found a cause to live for."

Samantha backed away from Prime, the Allspark clutched to her closely. A soft glow was beginning to emit from it and that glow was making her skin tingle. She moved away, knowing that the next few moments were going to go down in the history books, even if those books would be buried under lock and key for the rest of eternity.

As Optimus stood, Megatron charged.

Sam ran away from the renewed battle between 'brothers'. She felt insignificant in this situation. Jet fighters, one she knew from the lack of 'awareness' were genuine human fighter planes, unloaded sabot rounds by the dozen upon the unmistakable form that was Megatron. The rest of the private war waged within the city beyond them was gone. Optimus was fighting to keep the Allspark from Megatron's evil clutches while Megatron was giving his all for power, for his unquestionable kingship over all.

And she and Optimus were going to do all in their power to keep it from him.

The titans dueled with fists and feet. Megatron never ceased to try and nab the Allspark away from her, but every time Optimus would derail him. Optimus was not making killing strikes, she realized after a belated moment. He was simply trying to get Megatron a fair enough distance away from them to do something.

But what?

The answer to her question came not a few seconds later when Optimus kicked Megatron hard enough to ricochet him back several large steps and the sabot barrage to hit him full on. Not made of flesh and bone, the behemoth was only slowed.

"Sam, push the Cube into my spark!" Optimus demanded, kneeling slightly before her with his chest plates opening to reveal what she had referred to earlier so many times as a 'heart'. "_DO IT NOW!_"

She spared only a glance at the quickly approaching Megatron as she charged towards Optimus. The evil warlord obviously determined what their intention was and roared to the heavens, his clawed arm reaching out to snatch her up.

"_NO!_" He bellowed, the word more of a growl than anything.

As the arm got within a foot of her she feinted left with a twirl before darting up under the Decepticon leader's chest. He tried to back away, seeing that he was now at her mercy, but by the time he had figured it out it was far too late.

Sam braced her hands on either side of the Allspark and pushed it upwards towards Megatron's chest and his hidden spark. She had no idea of what to do other than grab a firm hold onto those power rushes she had been feeling ever since back at the Dam and harness them.

In the next instant the world exploded into a monstrosity of white light.

Samantha was thrust backward with a rush of outward power so great it could be felt down to her very core. She rolled several feet away, but when she stopped she was on her back and staring up at the Decepticon leader. He clutched at his now gaping chest as if to stop the oncoming visit from the Grim Reaper, but to no avail. The great silver body shuddered once, twice, and then fell back…dead.

She felt the awareness of him leave her the instant he died. She didn't need to see his crimson eyes dim, flicker, and then blacken to know that Megatron was no more. She had _felt_ it.

Sam lay where she had landed and stayed there, refusing to get up. If anyone wanted to talk to her, they were coming _to_ her. If anyone wanted her to see something, they were going to have to _carry_ her. In her mind she had just done her part in the war effort, enough to get her the key to the dang city.

She took silent stock of her body as she came down off of her adrenalin kick. Her chest hurt, the back of her head felt wet, her hands were throbbing, her back was itchy, and her legs stung with bruises she had no doubt she'd see when she dared to look. One conciliation was that at least she wasn't shaking now.

The only thing to throw her for a loop was that the power rushes she had been feeling all day since the Dam hadn't faded. No, it was settling. She felt like she had something sitting just under the surface of her skin. It was warm, homey. It felt like she was enveloped in a blanket. It wasn't the emotional showers she'd been feeling before, though now she was getting those almost nonstop, but another layer of herself.

_What the heck is this?_ She wondered to herself.

Her attention was diverted from her self-analysis when Optimus Prime came to tower even higher above her than normal. Her lips tipped a little downwards as she gazed into his too-blue eyes.

"I destroyed it." She said simply, knowing without a shadow of a doubt that she'd eradicated the Allspark.

"No, Sam, you did not." Her head rolled off to the side to see Ratchet approaching. She felt the tingle of a scan running over her, but she didn't have the energy to call him out on not asking permission first. "Energy cannot be destroyed. The Allspark is gone, but the power remains."

Looking into his eyes, into Optimus's, and the other Autobots coming to circle her, she had a sinking suspicion that she knew where the energy went…at least partly.

In that one moment in time she couldn't help herself.

She passed out into the wonderful realm of unconsciousness.

* * *

**Note:** There's only going to be one more chapter to this story before I begin to post my 'between' story, so that means we're coming right down to the end. I really hope that y'all are enjoying this story as much as I have writing it. I'd like to hit eighty (80) reviews before I post the final chapter. Please feel free in your opinions and point out any mistakes you see.

This last upcoming chapter is where you'll get the 'big reveal', so to speak. It might be what some of you are thinking, to others it might not be. Either way I hope that y'all can enjoy my twist. Also, I ask forgiveness for any repetition you see. I'm probably going to try and fix that a little later on.

The end chapter will also serve as a kind of epilogue to the story as a whole.

Enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Transformers.


	10. Chapter 10: In The End

**Chapter Ten: In The End**

Samantha rose up from the depths of total darkness and comfort groaning. Her head was throbbing and her chest burned when she breathed. With whatever energy she could muster she groaned and opened her eyes.

She saw a few things at once. One was that she was in a hospital; no other place was this white and sterile looking. The other was that she was not alone. There were men throughout the room, most of them extremely fit and tanned while a couple wore scrubs. The last thing that registered to her was that she knew these people…well, at least most of them. One of the guys in scrubs was new to her. Still, she could recall _everything_ from when she was last awake.

"Hey, the girl's awake."

In a flash everyone was clustered about. Her lips pulled down into a frown as the man she didn't know wearing scrubs latched onto her right wrist to check her pulse. Her eyes zeroed in on the bandages wrapped about her hands like gloves.

"What went on after the lights went out?" She asked when her head stopped spinning.

"Besides total chaos?" Mike countered as he took a at the foot of her bed. He was grinning. The green scrubs he was wearing was covering up his dirtied and scraped skin. "Well, Secretary Keller collected everybody, and I do mean _every_body, and got us back to the Hoover Dam. It's about the only place big enough to handle our guys right now. You've been out of it for only about six hours."

"Why are _we_ here, though?" Sam asked as did as the doctor, she assumed that's what he was, had her move some of her limbs to test mobility. "Shouldn't we be in a normal hospital?"

"Besides the fact that we're here because we're alien experts?" Mike smiled as he rubbed his big hand over her shin. "All I know is that the Autobots simply told everyone that they weren't abandoning you when you saved all their lives. Keller backed them up because by saving them you kind of saved the world. So congratulations. You are officially the most awesome person in the world."

"Nah." Sam snorted, trying to make a joke to get the spotlight off of her. "Robin Williams is the bomb."

At least it got them all to chuckle.

"They want to talk to you." Lennox spoke from where he stood near the foot of her bed.

"Oh yay." She rolled her eyes as she tried to sit up. She gasped in pain as her chest constricted. "I forgot about that." She hissed out.

"You have three cracked ribs, second degree burns on your hands, multiple lacerations, a concussion, and many contusions. In short, young lady, you look like you got run over." The doctor proclaimed cheerily. She shot him a dark look.

"You're from Sector Seven, aren't you? All of you are just too danged perky." With a little help from the man she was able to sit up straight. "And technically I wasn't run over. It was a little more involved than that."

"One can only imagine." The doctor muttered before gesturing to Epps who stood in the corner of the room. "Grab that wheelchair."

"I can walk." Sam started indignantly. Mike laughed at her.

"You're impossible, you know that?" The jock huffed out between guffaws. "You saved the world. Let people take care of you for now before we have to go home to get chewed out by our parents."

The groan that erupted from Sam then was not one of pain but absolute misery. If she wasn't in pain now, her mother and father would be sure to put her into it. It was bad enough that she hadn't come home that night without a single call, but to have her cell phone destroyed, be injured, and also the reason they were abducted late at night by men in suits? She was going to be grounded to the end of eternity.

The doctor used her preoccupation to get her into the wheelchair. Though she hated feeling useless, she certainly was tired. She might have been able to reach the Autobots on her own, but getting back she would almost bet that she'd be found asleep in the hallways by one of the agents or military men.

As she was shifted into the wheelchair by firm, yet gentle hands she scowled at her own scrubs. Hers were a pale sea green unlike Mike's baby blue ones. The thing was hideous, but at least she wasn't wearing one of those gowns with the open back. She'd had to put one of those things on before and didn't care for it one tiny bit. They were all too exposing as well as drafty. With hospitals being as cold as they normally are she'd think that someone would do something about that particular problem.

"How badly are you hurt, Mike?" Sam asked over her shoulder as Mike took command of her wheelchair even when the doctor shot him a nasty sneer. The jock only seemed further amused.

"I've got a couple stitches on my arm and a giant bandage on my butt…please don't ask me how I ended up needing that one…but otherwise I was just bruised and dirty." He gestured at both their scrubs. "They decided that the wanted us clean and we didn't exactly have a spare change of clothes."

"How are they?" She knew that he understood that she meant the Autobots and nobody else.

"Well you saw what happened with Jazz. They collected his body and Ratchet's kind of putting his pieces back together. I keep thinking back to old television mortuary shows when I think of that. Bumblebee's kind of waiting on getting his legs up and running. The rest are just trying to get something settled with Keller and the rest of the government." He shook his head slowly, his eyes settling onto her. "They're kind of quiet around most of us. Even Bumblebee's not playing the radio much."

"Seriously?" She scrunched her eyebrows up as she thought on that. While it was true that they'd only known the Autobots for a short time and they hadn't really spoken that much, Bumblebee had been nearly unstoppable with his radio-playing even before he had revealed himself as an alien robot. The only time Bumblebee had been mostly silent was in the minutes before the upcoming battle.

Something was eating at them.

Damn.

Mike leaned down so that his words were more for her than the others that were trailing farther behind. "Personally I think that they like us better. They talk to me a lot more than they do others and you'll probably be the same."

That's what she was afraid of.

She could remember everything from the earlier battle. She almost wished that she didn't. What is someone supposed to say to the fact that though you thought that you'd condemned a race of sentient beings to extinction you'd really only gotten rid of _one_ available source of the power. She also didn't like the conclusion she'd come to on her own before she'd so graciously passed out on the battlefield.

She recognized a few of the hallways that they meandered through, but many of them were new. She shuddered when they passed the one hanger where they had found Bumblebee bound and tortured.

That reminded her…

"Where's Banachek?"

"With the Sec-Def." Lennox informed her simply. "Apparently Keller was very unhappy with Sector Seven and is already working to have it disbanded.

"Before everything is said and done I and Banachek need to have a little one-on-one." She intoned ominously. Mike faltered in step before righting himself. She had little doubt that he knew that she was about to unseat the leader of Sector Seven in the most painful way.

Mike eventually pushed her into a hanger much like the one that Megatron had been kept in for so long with the exception of several of the major equipment used to entomb him. The Autobots either stood or sat within a cluster around the fallen Jazz. When her eyes landed on the silver automaton she felt a lurch in her heart. She wasn't sure what the feeling was, but it was more than just sorrow for his death.

The Autobots all turned as they entered, their blue eyes bright and focused onto her. She waved warily from her seat, feeling even smaller and insignificant than before. No matter how scratched and dented they were, she couldn't help but feel less than them.

Trying to push that lower-than-dirt feeling aside she turned her attention onto Bumblebee. He was sitting beside the prone form of Jazz, his legs stretched out before him. She could feel the elation radiating off of the yellow automaton. That freaked her out now that she had time to concentrate on doing something other than running for her life and trying to save the world.

"Howdy." She all but squeaked as she shifted in her seat. If the shuffling from behind her now motionless chair was any indication than Michael, too, was nervous about being on the receiving end of those eyes.

"Hello, Sam." Optimus intoned softly as he knelt down beside where she was seated. "How are you?"

She shot an amused look to Ratchet? "Why don't you tell him, Doc?" The yellow and red robot snorted in a very human-like gesture of dismissal.

"You did not give me permission to scan you so I do not know your condition entirely." It was that 'entirely' that had her laughing. She had little doubt that these behemoths could hack into any and all networks they so wished, including her medical file. She doubted that he would be satisfied unless he had a scan of her himself, but he would have to live with what her fellow humans came up with. He had already gotten one unpermitted scan out of her; he would not get another until even she knew what was going on in her body.

"I'm tired and sore, but otherwise in one piece." She responded to Optimus's earlier question. "Considering what went on, I'm genuinely surprised that I'm not dead."

_Is it my imagination or did these _metal_ giants just _stiffen_?_

She fiddled with the bandages wrapping around her palms and each finger. Her gaze fell onto Jazz's body and she fought back a wince. She'd seen him die. She'd seen him _murdered_ in cold metal. She gulped down her spit with the scalding memory.

"Sam," Optimus drew her attention back to him with a start. If she could see herself she might have imagined she resembled a deer in the headlights.

"I'm sorry." She apologized as she rubbed at her eyes with the back of her bandaged hands. "I was just thinking."

"It is all right, Samantha." She could all but feel the indulgent smile that he was unable to portray with his metallic face. "There are some things that we must discuss, though all of them do not need to be spoken of right now. As you have said, you are exhausted. We do not wish to add further strain unto you."

"I just need a nap later." She ignored Mike's snort even if she did want to slap his hand where it had come to rest on her shoulder. "What did you want to talk about?"

She felt rather than saw the sudden tension in the Autobots as well as the slight brightening of their eyes. Their attentions had diverted to the men surrounding them and then back to her. She doubted that they were seeking her approval, more that they were looking for privacy.

She figured she could handle that.

"Hey Lennox?" She called to the Captain. He smiled at her from where he had been talking to Epps and the other couple of his men that had followed them. "You think you could clear the, um, locals out of here for a bit? These guys want a little powwow with me. You can wait outside the door if you want and then I'll give you the run-down."

He looked objectionable. "Please? It's the least we can do. You and I both know that and I'm sure that I won't be turned into a pretty little smear in the floors while I'm around these guys." In fact, she doubted that they'd even prick her with a thorn let alone step on her…any human for that matter.

With a deep sigh Lennox nodded. "Sure. I have to talk with Keller anyway." He walked up to her and patted her free shoulder. "You did good, kid."

"Thanks." Sam gave him a small smile.

"Come on, Mike. We'll let Epps man the door while we go hunt down Keller and some grub." Lennox took Mike's upper arm to drag his reluctant form away. They were similar in size even though Mike had to be a few years his junior, Mike only slightly less built.

"Find me a pudding cup." She called with a laugh, hoping to make Mike grin. It worked as he shook his head with a chuckle.

She and the Autobots remained silent until everyone filed out of the hanger. Even then they seemed to be listening as if to make sure that everyone was truly gone. Eventually Ironhide nodded in ascent, making the attention revert back to her uncomfortably.

"So…" Samantha started, her bottom lip disappearing into her mouth as she nibbled on it in a nervous gesture. "What did you all want to discuss?"

"Please come here, Samantha." Ratchet pleaded kindly as he held out one of his massive hands towards her. She eyed it warily for only a moment before forcing her body up out of her wheelchair. She had to go slow to prevent unwanted movement to her ribs as well as to not jar her throbbing skull. Concussions were no easy business.

She used one of Ratchet's fingers to pull herself up onto his hand. She was beyond grateful that they were patient with her slowness. It wasn't that they didn't say anything about her slowness, which they didn't, but because she felt that they were simply waiting. They were not trying to pressure her and that was a relief after all she'd been through.

The medic raised her up once she was settled enough on his palm, his movements deliberate and smooth. He moved closer to Jazz's now welded, fissured chest until she was suspended almost directly over it. She felt that lurch in her chest once more, only this time it was a lot stronger. She looked to each Autobot singularly and noticed that their eyes were centered onto her as well.

"What?" Was the only question she could ask.

"What do you feel, Samantha?" Ratchet asked her, bringing her attention directly to him. "Beyond your exhaustion and physical pain, what do you feel?"

She paused, not sure if she should speak her instant thoughts. Surely these beings, aliens much grander, older, and far more than she could ever be would think her insane. What she wanted to say would have her committed by even her own fellow man. With a constricted sigh she admitted what she knew to be the truth.

"You." The one word response didn't send a jolt of surprise through them to her. It gave her hope to continue. "I feel you all. I thought that it started here when Sector Seven brought Bumblebee and us here, but I don't know anymore. I think that I might have been feeling you all even before that. It's like I can sense your emotions; it's like being submersed into somebody else's body except without the thoughts."

"Do you feel anything else? Beyond us?" Ratchet persisted.

"I feel the Decepticons when they're near. I feel like something cold is gripping my spine. It's not comfortable." Her sights fell down onto Jazz and she felt the tug once more. "And I think I'm feeling him. I don't know. He's dead, though."

"Try to feel him again, Samantha." Optimus started, his deeper voice snapping her head towards him and sending a dizzy rush through her. It took her a long moment to steady herself once more. "Focus on feeling Jazz. Trust us."

Sam furrowed her brows and followed along the feelings she was getting from the Autobots. With her eyes closed she trailed each one. She could literally feel threads attaching her to these giants. One, curly and bright led off into Bumblebee making her think of a recently turned-adult trying to prove to their parents that they are responsible and capable of everything and anything. Another was a deep blue, jagged, but strong like steel leading into Ironhide, rough and tough yet undeniably solid. Another waved and coiled towards Ratchet, both calm and caring, but also set in his ways and aggressively loyal. The next was taut and thick, racing with indiscernible strength and leadership, grand in its makeup but entirely too simple at the same time.

There were others, too. Sam couldn't even count how many there were. Some were clustered together. Some were so spread out that they were nearly unreachable. Unlike the strands closest to her, these were faded and if she reached for them her hand might have drifted right through them. There was one, however, that stemmed out from her slightly, but faded away into blackness. Before it faded it was a bright blue, full of life, humor, and reminiscent of a ninja on a high.

She toyed with that line, feeling the tug she'd felt while looking over Jazz's body. She began to pull the line from within her onto the invisible thread-way it had been on before. The power rush began to pull out with it and her hands trembled once more. Still she kept pulling, barely even registering when the power began to run through the threads of the nearest Autobots.

She gasped when all of her tugging at that sparking thread caused it to snap outward like a snake on its invisible path, power rushing with it like a tidal wave. As if in a backwash even more of the power cut across the four other threads until her eyes snapped open with the release.

That new skin underneath her normal one rose up once more to tingle at her senses. Her hands covered her mouth as she breathed in short pants. It was the movement of silver from beneath her that caused her to scream and fall back into Ratchet's wrist, jarring her ribs agonizingly.

"Hell's Bells! I freaking knew it!" She wheezed once she was able to regain her breath. She shifted onto her side, not even registering one of Prime's fingers rubbing in soothing patterns down her back. Her eyes were wide as she took in the stunned, slowly sitting Jazz. "You were dead! Megatron killed you, but you're back. And you're not a zombie." The last was all but a whisper. She didn't even care if the Autobots knew what a zombie was.

Jazz looked at her, something else shining in his eyes that she couldn't quite understand at first. Very tentatively she explored his thread, knowing automatically that this wasn't Glen's phone on a bigger scale. This _was_ Jazz. She found only awe, disbelief, and complete gratitude. In fact, when she trailed the other threads she found basically the same emotions only the disbelief was exchanged for something akin to adoration, maybe even worshipping.

"Explain this." Sam demanded when she was able to regain her speech looking to the medic for a logical response. "Now. Explain this to me."

"When I first scanned you in the graveyard I noticed that you had something within your blood that should not have been within a human's bloodstream. It seems that when your ancestor made contact with Megatron more than just the coordinates to the Allspark were transferred. Archibald Witwicky became imbedded with nanites, a Cybertronian version of your white blood cells. They are not sentient, but they are survival oriented. Somehow before he offlined, the nanites were transferred through to one of his children. Over the generations the nanites were eventually passed onto you. Those nanites give you a connection to Cybertronians in a way no human could have." He explained.

"But how can I do that!" She gestured towards the now standing Jazz. Her eyes bugged out even further when she took in his unscratched form. He looked better than new. Seeing the others she gaped at their undisturbed forms as well. "I don't understand how you all are whole. I couldn't have done that."

"As I said after the confrontation with Megatron, energy cannot be destroyed. That is simple truth no matter where you reside within the universe. The Allspark's power slipped fully into subspace where most of its power was stored outside of its physical shell. The Allspark's power was always too immense to store within one physical body.

"The nanites within your blood are ancient, Samantha. They are older than Megatron which means that another elder Cybertronian gave them to him. These nanites enabled you to intercept signals given out by both Cybertronians as well as the Allspark itself.

"In short, Samantha Jane Witwicky, you are now our one and only access to the Allspark's power and you already know, even if unconsciously, how to utilize it."

Sam's jaw dropped. Yes she'd thought along these lines before he'd said anything, but hearing the words spoken out loud made it real. She held her hand against her head trying to wage off the oncoming headache.

Now how was she supposed to explain this to Lennox?

"Sam." The voice snapped her attention to Bumblebee. If her jaw could go lower it would have at his voice. _His_ voice. Bumblebee could speak! "I am your Guardian, Sam. If you will have me I will keep you safe. We will _all_ keep you safe."

She looked to each of them in turn, stunned into silence.

After all she'd done to get rid of the Allspark and it wasn't even gone. What was worse was that the power was now accessible through her, which was asinine on so many levels in itself. She, the teen that was having a mental breakdown when the power was used to give a false life to an iPod touch cell phone, was now the portal between the Allspark's power and the rest of the universe.

Life seemed to have it out for her.

"How is Jazz alive? The Allspark doesn't give souls or return them. I know, I've seen what it does on its own." Her lavender eyes bore into Jazz's vibrant blue one. "Yet here you are."

"You are correct. The Allspark did not create life for Cybertronians. Our sparks were provided through another source while the Allspark gave power to our bodies, gave us physical forms." Ratchet looked to Jazz then and sent out a scan. She felt him smile. "You access the power of the Allspark, which repaired our physical forms, while your remaining connection to Jazz was able to sustain itself for a time until his form could be repaired. It is the simplest way I know to explain what you have done so that you may understand."

Ratchet's explanation had her thinking back to the fight when she'd watched Jazz get killed. She could remember reaching out for him and holding on. Now that Ratchet said something about it she seriously considered what she'd been doing ever since she'd met them all. She'd been acquainting herself with their threads, recognizing and holding onto each one. In a way she'd developed an intangible hold on each of them that she could even then reach out to.

"So what does this mean?" She asked as she rubbed her bandaged cheek with her equally bandaged hand. "Where are we supposed to go from here? What do we tell the government? Oh merciful Heavens; what do I tell my parents?"

She flopped as softly as she could onto her back in exasperation.

She was damn near certain that she felt a round of chuckles run through the Autobots collectively.

She flipped them all off.

* * *

Samantha rested against the front window of Bumblebee as she lounged over his hood. Mike was sitting near to the fender rubbing her aching feet. She supposed he owed her as she'd given him a back and shoulder massage after his game against Coleman High Patriots. It seemed that the jock was just as capable with his callused hands to give a massage as he was at passing a football.

She could barely believe that only a month ago she'd been terrified for her life of touching or being touched by any and all males and yet now she quite welcomed massages and casual touches. Mike sometimes still laughed at her when she flinched around strangers, but it was a natural defense mechanism. She'd been frightened of men too long to be completely cured of her wariness. Still, she quite enjoyed Mike's attentions even if they weren't officially a couple…at least by their standards.

Everyone else they knew thought they were already married or some such nonsense.

Sam thought back to that first week after the incident in Mission City. It had been a test of both the government's power as well as a test of how patient and lenient the Autobots were. She'd been at the Hoover Dam with Michael for the first six days after Mission City trying to help the Autobots get adapted better to humans. In truth she was almost terrified by their unique and remarkable ability to blend in and develop frighteningly similar mannerisms from them.

A chuckle built up in her chest at the memory of Ironhide shrugging for the first time. Besides waving his hand in dismissal, it was his favorite human physical gesture. Because their faces didn't portray much emotion besides the brightening or dimming of their 'optics' as they called them she felt frequently along the threads. It had become an unconscious action on her part. Quite often she didn't even have to reach. They just pushed their feelings onto her.

Mike had teased her about the near obsessive touching that went on between the Autobots and her. They weren't sexual touches in any way, not even ones aimed to comfort her, though the 'bots were beginning to show a near need to show her their favor. It seemed that when she was in contact with a Cybertronian it calmed the power of the Allspark just sitting underneath her skin making it more normal for her and giving added strength to the Autobots. She was still trying to figure out the whole power distribution thing. She was surprised by their gentleness with her and other humans after all she'd seen them do.

She'd seen Banachek on the fifth day at the Dam. He'd been arguing with Keller, who was in the final stage of getting Sector Seven disbanded. She'd strode over confidently, tapped him on the shoulder, and then kneed him in the groin proclaiming him a liar and an asshole.

She'd left him there clutching at his crotch and feeling amusement from the nearby Autobots.

She and the Autobots, after many hours of discussions, had decided upon a course of action before Bumblebee took she and Mike back to Tranquility. The Autobots, with help from Keller, Lennox's team, and she, would find a more permanent base of operations where the Decepticons didn't already know where they were residing as well as away from the civilian populace. They were also attempting to temper relations while the government bribed and threatened the Mission City citizens into claiming that their own private war didn't really happen. To the rest of the world it was supposed to simply be a terrorist attack. She would maintain her growing relationship with the Autobots as they did what they had to do, which involved bringing others of their kind to Earth.

It was on the seventh day that Bumblebee took them home. Mike's parents were pretty well unaware of their son, which was a sad thing. Sam's parents, on the other hand, were beyond pissed. She'd been grounded to the end of the century at first…until she had them go out back in a moment of leniency and introduced them to her Guardian.

Their reactions had been beyond comical.

She'd told them everything, at least most of it, and they'd rescinded her punishment until her ribs were well enough to handle semi-normal movements. Bumblebee had quite enjoyed her forced relaxation as she'd frequently go down to the garage to introduce him to new aspects of human culture that he wouldn't be able to experience over the internet. She hadn't been surprised that they could access the internet anywhere they were in the world, but she had been shocked at how formal they were even around her and Mike even with all their downloaded knowledge of humans.

Over a month's time she'd come to enjoy each and every one of the Autobots individually as well as together. Bumblebee, despite being older than any human civilization, _could_ be like her kid brother. He was still a warrior, but after adopting certain mannerisms that he liked best he was simply fun. Jazz was the perfect best friend with connections…at least that's what she related it to. Jazz was serious about being a saboteur, but he was also a natural partier and rockin' dancer. He'd actually taken to helping her train when she couldn't go to the studio for the competition in Mission City. He was an exceptional choreographer thanks to all of his downloading capabilities. Ironhide and Ratchet seemed to fill in the role of uncles, Ironhide being the hard-ass with a heart of gold and Ratchet the mother-hen with a temper. Optimus fit the role of leader, but he was also a gifted discussion master. She'd could talk to Prime about anyone and anything and be fully entertained as well as challenged.

Despite how they came off in the way they acted around humans at large, they never really treated her in the same way. They weren't normally a tactile bunch, but touching her had become almost second nature to them. They were the ultimate mimics, but she could see their true selves, _feel_ them. They felt like family to her, just not in the biological sense. She could stick them to certain categories like father, brother, uncle, but she never dedicated herself to those positions. They were simply connected to her as she was coming to realize she was to them. They were not one being, but they were a twisted kind of family that she wholeheartedly welcomed.

Barely a week ago the Autobots had attained a temporary base in the Nevada desert, one considered to the government as a while as an old army air base. They would be utilizing it until they could acquire a more permanent base for themselves further away from the main populace. They were about three hours away from Tranquility, something that they seemed to prefer. She couldn't help but think that they'd asked for some place so near to her. She was the Allspark shell after all.

Just today she and Travis had gotten into Bumblebee and gone to a newly repaired Mission City to dance in the state competition. They'd been awarded second place due to their inability to train together for the time it took her ribs to heal enough. Their dances had been more classical than modern, they had astounded the judges with their ability to adapt and how in sync to each other they were. They kept their mouths shut about her chest pains from her ribs so as to avoid sympathy. No matter how unbiased the judges were, they didn't want to risk a false win.

Mike had shown up during the competition to watch and invited her out for dinner afterwards with Travis. Travis had declined to go with his boyfriend to a movie. After dinner Bumblebee, accompanied by Jazz who had given Mike a lift to Mission City, had driven them up to the bluff where they now rested.

The others had shown up less than a half an hour after Bumblebee and them had and set up position to watch the sunset. Beside the sparsely living tree of the bluff Optimus transformed to stare up into the stars.

"He always looks like he's seeing into eternity when he does that." Michael remarked as he slipped her sandals back on. Sam nodded her head in agreement. Optimus had a brooding side, his mind always extensive.

"Yeah. After so long trying to keep others alive in the middle of a war I think that he has a right to contemplate the universe. I mean even our scholars do it and they're barely a thought in age compared to all of these guys."

She stood then from Bumblebee's hood. Mike followed her motions, but sauntered over to Ironhide while she derailed to Optimus. He was giving them some privacy. He knew that she and Optimus had a close relationship even so early on. The titan liked to talk to her and seemed to genuinely enjoy having her insight. She thought that it might have something to do with her 'humanness' as Ironhide liked to call it. They all found humans beyond interesting.

"What'cha thinkin' about?" She drawled as she stopped beside Optimus's ankle. He was so large that she barely came up to the half-way point of his shin. Jazz being the smallest she was just short of his hip, Bumblebee his knee, and Ironhide and Ratchet just below their knees.

"I am thinking of the message I will send out into the stars for our comrades."

She wasn't surprised by that. After the initial bomb to her about being the conveyor of the Allspark's energy and feeling along those connecting threads they'd come to the realization that the faded threads were other Cybertronians. Over the months some of them had gotten more intangible, if mental connections could indeed be even more unsubstantial, while others had solidified some. Ratchet and Optimus had assumed that it was due to the distance they had from her. It made sense in all of their minds, though other humans were stumped on how she seemed to know where the Autobots were, roughly, no matter where she happened to be.

She was her own personal Cybertronian GPS.

"What do you intend to tell them? I mean it probably wouldn't be a good idea to reveal too much to them in case a Decepticon intercepted the signal." Though Megatron was destroyed and dropped down into the Challenger Deep, the deepest part of the Ocean in the Miana Trench outside of Guam, they weren't willing to take any chances.

Heck, they hadn't even told the government everything…such as her new little quark in her genes and that the Allspark they'd been using for so long was actually still in existence. She would kill herself regardless of the repercussions if the government decided to use her as they had the Allspark. Also, Optimus had yet to reveal to anyone else, besides herself since she was technically the Allspark now, that he had pulled a shard of the Cube out of Megatron's chest. She'd even held the thing back in that first week they were at the Dam. There had been no remnants of its power within it. It was just a very hold hunk of metal now.

"That we have a home." Optimus informed her kindly, the smile both in his voice as well as through the bond they shared. She had no choice but to grin up at him. "I will also inform them that the Allspark is gone — as we know it. That we live amongst humans now, hiding and protecting them."

"To all surviving Autobots taking refuge amongst other systems and stars, you are not alone. We are here. We are waiting."

Optimus looked down onto her and she felt something she was beginning to become entirely familiar with coming from him, affection. She felt his own answering smile to hers as he knelt down and ran one massive index finger over her back.

"Despite in many ways, both internally and externally, being literally worlds apart, like us there is more to you than meets the eye." He uttered the words with such fondness that she fought not to tear up.

Sam turned her head back to the sunset while Optimus's finger froze upon the center of her back. She reversed the flow of feelings so that the Autobot leader could feel her contentment. With a deep breath inward she giggled.

"A month ago I asked for an adventure." She spoke almost wistfully, her heart reaching out to each of her new friends. They responded in kind, caressing their bonds. "When I got it, I never thought that the source would come from visitors from Heaven."

Her own hand reached out to settle onto Optimus's finger. Her eyes just about glowed when she faced into his shining blue ones once more.

"Welcome home, Optimus."

* * *

**Notes:** Here it is...the end of this story. I hope ya'll enjoyed it. The continuing story is the 'between' tale from this first story and the second story (which will be my version of the second movie). I am sorry of my character was too Mary Sue for you, but I tried not to make her completely perfect. Also, i had a private message asking me about her eye color...think about what color the Autobot's optics are and what the Decepticon's optics are...what do they look like swirled together?

Please feel free to review. If anyone has any questions please ask. Also, review or message me on the next story I'm going to post soon as the continuation to this. I want to know if ya'll are interested in a continuing series. If not that is fine, but I will still most likely post it anyway...it's just that the positive feedback I get and approval of others for a continuation makes me want to post it more.

The 'between' story will show the developing relationship between Sam and the 'Bots as well as the introduction of all the new Autobots. Also I will try to involve some 'hints' to the story I'm basing off the second movie. You will also get to see how Sam learns about the Allspark and how to work with it appropriately. She and Mike are going to run the 'Bots ragged, however, with some outside help, as they are still teenagers.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Transformers.

**DOUBLE NOTE:** The sequel is officially out. It is entitled **_'Shooting Stars and Setting Suns'_**.


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